Ethereal
by DealingDearie
Summary: When faced with the trials of everyday living, and the turmoil of immortality, will the family be able to withstand all that life, and all of its wonder and heartache, has to give? Sequel to 'Solace'. Reading the series in order is recommended. Feedback is always appreciated.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: The fic before this, 'Solace', made me want to write a sequel. ;) This is set around 3 years after the end of the first fic, but will most likely shift to future times as the story progresses, seeing as this is mainly about Abe and Princess Nuala, and the two _are_ basically immortal. Not all of their time can be spent around one family-not for too long, anyway. That's what happens when people die. :/ **

"What are you going to do after the wedding?" Liz asks absently, halfheartedly wiping off a thin layer of dust living on a nearby shelf, her cropped hair shining like obsidian in the harsh lighting of the dress store. The ebony cross at her neck jiggles, hanging from its time worn chain, as she turns, one eyebrow raised in patient expectance, to glance questioningly at Nuala, the corners of her lips turned up.

"Getting your own place?"

Nuala's laughter is short lived, a small relief from the stress of the day, as she runs her fingers over the silken cloth of yet another dress, feeling the soft texture that reminds her of days gone by, moments spent wrapped up in such lovely dresses that were smooth to the touch. Mockingly, the princess turns, her pale hair catching the light, the golden tips carrying the faintest impression of scarlet, and gives Liz a teasing glance.

"I hardly think that would be wise, Liz", she murmurs, her eyes falling upon an ocean colored bridesmaid dress just behind Liz, with a simple yellow sash tying at the waist, "what with all of the "paranormal" hate groups walking around."

Watching her make air quotes with her slender fingers, the tips of her honey tinted nails glowing golden, elicits a hearty laugh from Liz, who holds her stomach to ebb the pain as Nuala walks past her to look at the dress. To the eyes, it's simple, serenely so, with a merging of colors close to the bottom so that baby blue turns into the darker shades of a clear summer sky, and it flows outward from the bottom of the bowed bodice. The elf looks over her shoulder at her companion, her lips parted in a suggestion, before Liz-still getting over her fit of laughter- shakes her head quickly, smirking as she picks at the edges of the cloth.

"It's too…not me," she observes awkwardly, catching the frown on Nuala's face with an apologetic gaze before looking down at her own clothes.

Her leather jacket, covered with buttons and pockets abound, conceals most of the black undershirt –which she'd bought at the mall a few months back, lured in by the claim of an "instant slim down"-that peeks out of the space in her upturned collar. Her pants, usually as tight as Liz's comfort will allow, are now laced with elastic, the waistband stretching slightly to accommodate her rounding belly, and she puts a hand over it, an absentminded habit of late.

"I'm more of a…" She searches for an adequate description of her style, one that won't come off as crude, and waves her hands as if to grab something, while Nuala looks on, smiling.

The gesture is surely one of Abraham's, one Liz must have picked up over the years, and the fondness that blossoms in her heart at the thought of the merman warms her somewhere deep inside.

"Anything but blue person?" Nuala asks jokingly, and Liz smiles with relief, nodding quickly. "Yeah. Anything but blue person."

Nuala nods agreeably before moving on to the next rack of formal dresses, biting her lower lip every now and then in a subconscious kind of way, and Liz follows her lead, dismissing one after the other with a heavy sigh, already tired from the morning's excursion, back aching from the many trips through the mall and nearby stores they'd already taken. Nuala doesn't seem the least bit exhausted, and this motivates Liz to keep on moving; if Nuala, an eons-old elf, can make it without resting, then Liz can, too.

The sting in her feet, though, tells her otherwise, and she favors one foot at a time to give the other one some relief. Nuala can sense, more so than she can see, the fatigue shining within Liz's almond eyes, and she turns, smiling warmly at her friend.

"It's alright, Liz. We'll find you a dress, but not today," she murmurs softly, taking Liz's arm so that she can walk with her to the door, and they both go ambling across the smoothly waxed floors of the bridal store, the purple cloth of Nuala's dress flowing a bit behind her as they pass through the sliding doors and out into the sweltering heat, the pavement hot beneath their feet despite the layers of shoes and socks that Liz has on, and she can only imagine how hot-footed Nuala is, with her thin slippers on.

As soon as they reach the Jeep, Liz hops into the driver's seat and waits until Nuala has settled herself in the next seat over, glancing at the princess with a grateful smile.

"Thank you," she says, her cheeks flushed, and Liz isn't sure if it's because of the heat or the hormones, despite having earlier experience with pregnancies, and she frowns at her lack of knowledge.

"It's just hot out. You're not _that_ hormonal," Nuala reassures her quietly, throwing her a teasing smile. "Yet."

Liz's uncontrollable laughter can be heard from outside the car.

**Sorry that this is so short. I was just testing it out. **

**Do you think I should continue? Was it ehhh, alright, not so good...? Please R&R! Feedback of any kind is always appreciated! ;)**

**All rights go to their respectful owners. I own nothing, sadly. **


	2. Chapter 2

Red's had plenty of days to sit and mull things over, and he's had too many days where he can only sit and try to reason with his children or his wife, and both activities end in the same way; frustration.

From Abe's increasing wedding anxiety, to Liz's temperamental habits, to Trevor's backtalk, to Sierra's insistence that she be allowed to date, to Nuala's quiet-sometimes annoyingly so-murmurs that no one but Abe can hear, Red has his hands full, and no one seems to realize just how stressed he really is. There's an undercurrent of happiness, of course, because he knows that he's beyond lucky to have a family-a woman who loves him and children who do on most days and two amazing friends and a baby on the way-and a life that they've all built here, but the ghost at his back, the pressure that gets ever harder to bear, haunts his days and invades his nights, and only Liz can soothe it, with her gentle touches and soft murmurs.

He finds himself falling in love all over again, every time he looks at her with her smile-a thing that used to be almost impossible to find on her face, over a decade ago. A_ decade._ It seems nearly impossible, to look back and find that thirteen years have come and gone since the Golden Army and B.P.R.D. and Manning, and the echo of orders and beeping comms and the clank of gears still follows his thoughts, a soft trail in his mind that fades out after a few moments.

To think that it's been so long, since their twins were huddled forms inside Liz's body, since Abe first laid eyes on Nuala, since they all left their one and only way of life for the unknown. It's baffling, and a bit crazy, and a whole lot satisfying-they made it.

And now, his best friend is just about ready to marry the one person Red had always hoped he'd find, and life, though troubling, seems almost perfect.

_But Daaaad._

He winces, the memory of his and Sierra's argument still fresh in his mind, and pulls the tab on a can of beer, the habit not yet kicked, even after all these years.

Beside him, Abe makes a disagreeing sound, but it's muffled by the hands upon his face, and he pulls his head just far enough away from their hold to give Red what he thinks is a disapproving stare.

"You shouldn't be drinking that; it's hazardous to your health," Abe murmurs warningly, and Red smirks up at him, strewn out on the library's large entryway stairs, the top of which Abe is perched on, his bare feet absentmindedly tapping against the soft crimson carpet, always in tune with the music that drifts from the various speakers placed around the room.

Red stops just before taking a sip of the chilled alcohol, gazing around him to realize that Abe built this place to look almost exactly like the library back at the agency, and his red tail swishes lazily behind him. He frowns deeply, shaking his head with a heavy sigh.

"Trevor thinks he's got it _all_ figured out, and Sierra…" The demon shivers involuntarily, and spots, in the corner of his eye, the slight upturn of Abe's mouth, and smiles in return, rolling his eyes. "_Dating_. Why in the _hell_ would I let her do that? I mean, she's almost sixteen!"

Throughout his exclamation, Red's waving fist interrupts the calm swinging motion of the ancient rosary beads tied about his wrist, and a little bit of liquid splashes out of the can he holds, and he grimaces at it, hoping Abe doesn't notice the puddle sinking into his carpet. Abe blinks, completely unaware, gazing over at some unknown point in the room.

"She believes she can handle it," he observes quietly, and Red snorts, thinking of all the many faces that have hated him.

"_But what if she can't?_ What if some jerk is mean to her, what if they hurt her feelings…or-_hurt her_." He slams his stone fist down on a step. "I _won't_ let it happen, Abe. I just won't."

He gives his friend an imploring look before letting his eyes fall upon a small scar on the top of his shoulder, where a group of drunk men had followed him and Abe as they were walking, a broken beer bottle in one of the men's hands-Red had been too slow, then, and the regret lies heavy on his tongue.

"People are cruel. You know that better than any of us," he says gently, and Abe looks over at him with an empty expression, the only indication of any emotion at all being the telltale crinkle of the scar running down his blue cheek.

"But she doesn't know that, Red. And she never will, unless given the chance."

Gaping, Red stutters with disbelief, and shakes his head violently, raising his voice. "You don't mean-"

"All I'm saying is that, unless given the opportunity for exploration, Sierra will always yearn to do so. The only way to quell her desire to date is to let her," he explains slowly, and Red can't stop the flare of logic that takes hold of him and the imprint of worry deep in his gut that warns against the idea.

**So I decided to continue it. xD But slowly. **

**Please R&R! Feedback of any kind is always appreciated. ;)**


	3. Chapter 3

Coming home has slowly become a set routine, driving down the winding, abandoned path that leads to their remote house as Liz complains about the day's annoyances, and Nuala sits and stares out the window, the sun warming the skin beneath the violet material of her dress. She reaches out occasionally, testing the air around her with her telepathy to secure its safety, and checking on Liz's baby has become a frequent habit, making sure the pregnancy is going smoothly. Liz remains oblivious as she complains about a woman that had cut her off in line at one of the stores, and she makes a crude gesture, as if the woman could see her at this very moment, as they pull into their driveway, and Nuala gratefully climbs out of the vehicle to touch solid ground, still uneasy with car rides after the years spent enduring them, and Abe greets them both at the door.

The elf still finds her heart pounding wildly at the sight of him, her cheeks colored with blood, and she can always detect the change in her breathing, amazed at the effect he has on her. Liz smiles at him, an expression of friendliness that can only be gained from years of companionship, and makes her way to the kitchen, where Red waits sullenly, and they both follow her through the doorway.

Red glances up at his wife and immediately, she can see the stress in his eyes, the frown upon his face pulling at his features, his horns a bit longer from where he's neglected to grind them down.

"What is it this time?" Liz asks warily, and he shrugs, throwing up his hands, and his stone fist thumps back down onto the table roughly.

"Sierra wants a boyfriend," he mutters tiredly, shaking his head with defeat. Liz opens her mouth to reply, surprise lighting in her eyes, but the words are lost to Nuala, who is currently distracted by the hand that is winding around her own, the comforting touch of the man beside her putting her at a soothing kind of ease. _Library?_ Eagerly, the elf nods over at him, and he leads her away from the brewing conversation of husband and wife to the comforting confines of his-their-library, where the smell of books and the sound of bubbling water and classical music makes her feel utterly at home.

Abe releases her hand to pick out a new CD, and she takes a seat at one of the several loveseats strewn about the room, smiling as she picks up a paperback from a nearby table, idly leafing through its many pages of adventure and romance, getting caught up in the intricate descriptions and the vivid flashes of images that pour into her hands, invading her thoughts.

Before too long, after memories and emotions alike spanning a whole century, Nuala finds the end of the book's history, and lets herself enjoy the words written in swirling ink across the worn pages. She barely notices the new song reverberating against the walls, and fails to hear the soft footsteps at her back, and sighs as Abe comes up behind her to wrap his arms around her torso, snuggly holding her in place as she tilts her head to rest against his shoulder. He reads the book along with her, perfectly content to stay like that for hours, before she turns in his embrace, smiling up at him with sharp teeth.

"Do you really think they'll let her date?" Nuala asks curiously, her eyes burning with uncertainty, and he comes around the loveseat to sit at her side, casually placing his hand on her knee-something neither person notices anymore-and blinking in thought.

"Maybe. It just all depends on whether she finds a boyfriend, doesn't it? If she doesn't, then there's no point in allowing her to date," he says, softly running his finger in a circle around her kneecap, and she frowns at the thought coming to her.

"I hate to sound cruel, but Sierra doesn't even have any official education, and she knows no one but us. How can she possibly find someone to court, when she doesn't go to school- or anywhere, for that matter?" Abe glances at her, and he shrugs in response, shaking his head as he looks over at the crackling flames dancing within the stone fireplace in the middle of the room, a distant gleam in his dark eyes.

"If we all managed to find our way to one another, then Sierra-and Trevor-can, as well," he explains hopefully, a small smile coming to his lips, and the scar along Nuala's cheek crinkles as she smiles in agreement. She feels, suddenly and swiftly, a moment's hesitation in Abe's thoughts, and the troubling sensation of it worries her enough to stay silent until he speaks his mind. Reluctantly, he turns to her, sighing.

"I wish you wouldn't go out in public so much, Nuala," he murmurs quietly, the concerned pulses she feels from him making her stifle the argumentative response she'd planned. She looks down at her feet, frowning.

"But I enjoy it."

He nods hurriedly and quickly squeezes her knee reassuringly, smiling sadly over at her.

"I know, and I'm glad that you do, Nuala. I really am," He looks down at his hand and blinks, sighing heavily with some ages-old burden weighing on his desire for his girlfriend to be happy, "but I know the cost, and I don't want you to have to pay it."

She folds her hands in her lap, the bright memory of being relentlessly told to do so in her childhood at the forefront of her mind, and the dark shadows lurking beneath such memories threaten to come over her with haste, just before Abe removes his touch on her knee to reinforce it on her hand, squeezing her fingers comfortingly.

"There is no price so high as to keep me from showing my face, Abraham," she whispers delicately, loosening his hold on her hand so that she can brush her thumb against the fragile webbing between his fingers.

"But if the day comes, and I absolutely _must_ hide away from the world, then I'll do it."

Relaxing, Abe nods in assent, and she beams over at him before leaning into his touch, snaking her arm around his neck, always mindful of his sensitive gills, to press her lips to his, the most cleansing calm surrounding them both in the waning silence of the library.

...

A week of whispered deliberation, and endless hours of dress shopping and wedding preparations, found Abe and Nuala just two weeks away from their wedding-having been waiting for it for half a year now-and the hushed excitement that electrified the air didn't go unnoticed, proven by the hastened trips taken to the library for some peace and quiet by the newlyweds-to-be, and the familial pride emitting from Red and Liz, whose mood was never once dampened by the search for a boyfriend that Sierra had taken up, shyly venturing out into the public with layers of clothing and big hats, sunglasses that covered most of her face and concealing gloves-compliments of her uncle. Much to Nuala's protests, Sierra didn't believe in proudly showing her true colors, and opted-much to everyone else's relief-to stay hidden until she got close enough to someone.

Liz, being the only one that looked normal enough to be seen with her daughter around potential boyfriends and the most talented driver, took up the job of driving Sierra around town, nonchalantly hanging back as Sierra took trip after trip to some of her favorite spots- where she felt most comfortable. Nuala couldn't drive, and had no desire to, and Red had trouble performing the task, with his inconveniently large hand, and Abe, of late, barely even wanted to venture out into the world of people-so that left Liz, stuck with trying to pass the time in a seat positioned far enough away so as not to embarrass her daughter.

She got jumpy every time a boy came near to talk to Sierra, but she always forced herself to relax and wait it out.

And waiting was never something Liz was particularly good at.

...

Trevor, having been quite literally stuck at home for most of his life, had no opinion on Sierra's endeavors, and didn't really care either way if she got a boyfriend or not. He did, however, care about dinner, which was always postponed to accommodate Liz's frequent tardiness at getting back home, a disappointed Sierra in tow. Abe and Nuala, now the official chefs of the house, always opted to wait for the rest of the family to get back, and Red spent this amount of time trying to coax Trevor into some father and son pastime.

Baseball was out, since both were awful at the game, and every other activity was a one sided favorite, until Trevor introduced his father to video games. And not just the regular, monotonous video games, either-the intense, physically tiring Wii video games that required constant movement. Fighting games were an all-around favorite, and since the apple didn't fall far from the tree, both men were equally competitive.

Loud shouts of victory, and low whines of defeat, were heard from downstairs, and Nuala would almost drop the casserole dish in surprise when either one yelled out of nowhere, staring at the ceiling with wide eyes, wary of the noises as she milled about in the kitchen, Abraham at her elbow with his mocking smiles.

...

And so, the next week went like the month before it, and in the final days of being a bachelor, Red had suggested a bachelor party, to which Abe had simply ignored to his best ability, and Liz couldn't think of a single thing to do that Nuala would actually enjoy. The princess still got a bit frightened around people- although her insistence to be around them stayed strong-and the average bachelorette parties were something she certainly would never agree to. They seemed fine with the prospect of no parties, and smiled happily when anyone mentioned the upcoming wedding, as if they couldn't wait, and everyone guessed that they had a hard time doing so.

Liz had an idea one morning, and woke with a devilish grin on her face, and rushed out of bed to get dressed, knowing that Nuala would be up with the sun, already fixing herself breakfast in the kitchen downstairs. Wordlessly, she tugged Nuala from the house and into their car, sending her a single thought about the mall, and they were off, a trip that was shrouded in both secrecy and confusion, on Nuala's part.

It wasn't until much later, when, upon returning to the house, the princess had quietly passed Abe in the hall on her way to her room, her face a blushing mess of embarrassment as forbidden thoughts had entered her head continuously, and the struggle to keep them from Abe had been clear in her eyes as she'd brushed past him without a word, that the full intent of her friend came upon Nuala.

Liz's amused murmurs thrown at Red, able to be heard from outside their room, of lace and lingerie were the only things keeping Abe rooted to the spot, and his cheeks were flushed with blood by the time he made it to the library, shaking his head to will away the images in his head, tugging at his clothes as the room seemed to get ever hotter.

**Please R&R! Feedback of any kind is always appreciated! ;)**


	4. Chapter 4

"Do you like it?" Nuala asks earnestly, her pale hands girlishly folded together beneath her chin as she smiles hopefully over at her bridesmaid, who's currently glancing at the royal looking wardrobe before her, the dark wood looking waxed and rich, and the reflection she sees cast within its surface doesn't manage to distract her from the dress hanging within.

"I supervised its crafting myself, and had only the best seamstresses in all of Bethmora to even so much as touch it, and they had no trouble with the measurements you gave me," Nuala murmurs encouragingly, the excitement shining in the bright depths of her large eyes, and she holds her breath as Liz runs her fingers over the silken material.

The dress is floor-length, and Liz can imagine it clinging to her every curve, and blushes furiously as she self-consciously brings a hand to rest on her belly. Nuala comes up behind her, a friendly hand on her shoulder, and she smiles sweetly, making Liz wonder how the woman can be so cheery all the time.

"I had them loosen it a bit at the midriff, so that it flows more than it hugs," she reassures gently, and the warmth of the relieved smile Liz sends her way is only rivaled by the gratitude shining in her dark eyes. Looking back at the dress, and its conservative neckline, brings a smile to her face as she touches the silver cloth, the moonlit surface shimmering in the light, the slashes of gold looking like bright lines of fire as they run, randomly, through the fabric.

"It's like," She traces one of the golden lines with her fingertip, smirking, "the dress is on fire," Liz observes absently, and Nuala nods beside her, smiling proudly.

"I came up with the idea myself. Black was far too…depressing, and gold is the most revered color of our people. That it look as if lit by flames is only appropriate, given the wearer."

Liz laughs and turns to her friend, peripheral vision searching for the wedding dress, and Nuala fondly takes her elbow and leads her into yet another back room of her many quarters, passing ancient artifacts that must seem like everyday items to the elves.

After exploring a short hallway, Nuala shoulders open a stone door-and Liz frowns, thinking how hard it must be to open a _stone_ door-before ushering Liz in, and the dim candlelight throws their faces in shadow, igniting the gold of the elf's eyes so vividly that it's almost all Liz can see. Her eyes eventually adjust, with a lot of blinking, and they pass through a doorway leading into a conjoining room, where masses of elves linger within the vicinity. They all turn, motherly smiles thrown their way before bowing to their queen, and Liz watches Nuala humbly incline her head, her eyelids fluttering closed-as if by habit-and the pyrokinetic wonders what Nuala had to shield her eyes from, and how often, for her to develop the practice. Murmuring in lilting tones of Gaelic, the queen-but still thought of at home as a princess (shown by Abe's nickname)-addresses the ladies in waiting, and they quietly escort themselves out of the room, breaking apart their tightly formed huddle around the dress, and Liz steps forward just as the last of the elves walks out the door, eyes widening.

The dress itself is long, like all of Nuala's dresses, with swooping sleeves that kiss the floor and layers upon layers of cloth, and the stand-or pedestal, really-that it's been set upon holds it steady and unwrinkled. The fabric shimmers just as her own dress does, catching the light and basking in its glow, with a dark golden hue, gleaming amber in the candlelight. The train isn't overly long, but the intricate lace that stretches from its end all the way up to the tip of the collar-one that climbs up the neck to rest beneath the chin-appears immensely delicate, and Liz just stops herself from touching it. Its shape reminds her of the dress the elf wore so many years ago, standing in the Army chambers, and the glimmering fabric that wraps about the waist is the same color as Nuala's eyes.

Besides the aforementioned designs, the dress looks to be plainer than all of the others Nuala has ever worn, and the queen comes up beside her to whisper, teasingly, in her ear: "I didn't want to blind anyone."

Liz laughs and casts her arms in the dress's direction, gesturing to it. "Why gold?"

Curiously, she follows the elf as she touches her wedding dress, smiling fondly.

"Like I said, gold is the most revered color; the only color, really, that anyone here wants to display. I was an exception, with my reds and blues, and after I left, I wanted to experience green and purple."

She smiles, as if the odd words are all small parts of a great joke, and shakes her head, her curtain of pale hair shivering as her body moves, and she shrugs.

"Whether that reverence stems from the long held, and wrongfully so, pride of my people, it matters not."

She turns, giving her full attention back to her friend, and the wistful shine in her eyes fades just as quickly as her smile widens, and she walks out the door, Liz at her back, seeming so at home within the walls.

**Please R&R! Feedback of any kind is always appreciated! ;)**


	5. Chapter 5

Red's loitering-or everyone _thinks_ he is-, and is happy to do it, lingering outside Abe's door as his friend tries to choose between two outfits. Eyeing the staring elves around him with a cocky smirk, he slumps against the stone door, trench coat dirtied from the last time he neglected to clean it, leather pants stifling in the underground atmosphere. He throws his head back, sighing impatiently.

"I could help, you know," he offers nonchalantly, and swallows a chuckle at Abe's response- a complaint about tuxedos and a great aversion to wearing them-before shoving the door open, completely unannounced, and Abe turns, blinking startlingly, before his shoulders relax, and he turns back to the mirror, shaking his head. He pulls at the suit he's wearing and Red laughs at the sight of him, the awkward stiffness of his long limbs caught up in the rigid material, the black color making his blue skin look laughable, and he grimaces. Abe nods, his enthusiasm all but deflated.

"I know," he sighs, throwing up his hands just as he takes a seat in one of the chairs outlining the room, and Red sits beside him.

"There's just nothing…_official_ to wear for my _own_ wedding. Being like this is ridiculous," he complains woefully, and the relatable statement urges Red to clap him on the shoulder, nodding in agreement and understanding.

"You don't have to wear that, and _I_ don't have to wear one, either," he mutters, leaning back in his chair tiredly. Abe blinks, his dark eyes gazing over at his demonic friend with an exhausted shine, and the shadows dancing on his face as he smiles wanly give Red dozens of eerie chills.

"I thought you were excited, Blue," Red remarks mockingly, and the other man's face breaks out into a wider smile, a genuine show of affection that brings out the scar on his face, the pale flesh in complete contrast to the fading blue of his cheek.

"I was," he agrees, nodding, sinking farther into his seat, "and I still am-but we've both agreed to add elements from both Elven and human culture to our wedding, different parts of different ceremonies, and neither culture is willing to allow me a suitable clothing choice."

He sighs heavily, and Red can hardly imagine that in a few hours, this same melancholy, tired man will be a husband, and he nudges his friend's shoulder with his own, a familiar sign of camaraderie that has existed between them for years, and Abe reluctantly reinforces his smile. The sadness in it, the complete and utter frustration at being so completely different as to not fit into a suit appropriately, lies dormant within his stare, and the intensity of its slow ignition startles Red more than anything else that day.

**Poor Abe. :'(**

**Sorry that this is so short!**

** Please R&R! Feedback of any kind is always appreciated! ;)**


	6. Chapter 6

With the constant thought of the ceremony just a few scant hours away, lingering in the back of her mind like a forbidden thought, and the ghost of Abe's frustration haunting her own consciousness, Nuala feels the pressure of the day more than anything else, and blinks every now and then to keep herself from straying from her tasks, concentration strictly in check.

It's tedious, and just a little draining, and the observant attention of Liz's eyes is unnerving, as they sit, waiting patiently for the hours to pass by, just about ready to get dressed for the wedding, the Elves hurrying about them murmuring among themselves in a foreign tongue that Liz can't possibly keep track with.

The twins, bored beyond belief, sit beside their mother, and they decline the outfits brought over to them in offering by the Elven maidens, shaking their heads dismissively. Liz gives them both a sharp look every time, almond eyes lit with irritation.

"Don't you want to look nice for the wedding?" Liz asks angrily, and they both look at her, shrugging casually, looking like average teenagers, save for the glow of their amber eyes and the lazy way their red tails swish back and forth, dark hair catching the light as Trevor runs his hand through it, just to have something to do.

"Why? We're not participating or anything," Sierra responds, baffled, and the tone she uses makes Liz fume, small tendrils of smoke curling from her hands, and Nuala quickly puts a hand on her friend's, impervious to the heat coiling beneath Liz's skin. Liz starts, and looks at the elf with an apologetic expression, pulling her hand away as she calms down. With a tired smile, Nuala shakes her head, shrugging in such an unladylike manner that they all know she must have picked it up from Liz, and the twins stare, eyes round.

"It doesn't matter. Wear what you want."

Her soft tone is fond, and all too affectionate, and the twins glance at each other dubiously, lips pursed, and Liz looks on, brows furrowed.

The sound of her voice, Liz thinks, sounded just like if she were talking to Abe, and she looks down to Nuala's hands to see that they're hovering above the table, the air kissing the surfaces of her palms, and her eyes widen in realization.

How could she talk to them and keep a conversation going in her head at the same time?

The telepathic abilities, so mysterious to Liz after all these years, suddenly seem all the more confusing, and Nuala blinks unexpectedly, as if dazed, smiling in apology at the three people before her, a golden color invading her cheeks. Trevor opens his mouth to ask, but the queen just taps her temple with the tip of her finger, and he nods in understanding, too mystified to actually give her a verbal response, his amber eyes wide.

...

_I have no idea what the Elves could make for me._

Abe's response suddenly hits deaf ears, so to speak, and he sighs, relaxing back against his seat as he waits for Red to return from his tour, which is really just a cover up to find a bathroom-and Abe has a feeling that the man won't like what he finds, if he _does_ happen to stumble upon one. He knows that it's bad luck to see the bride, and the urge to talk to her was far too great, and the imprint of their mental conversation is fresh in his mind, her memory of robes and seamstresses and tailor made clothing stored in his thoughts.

With three hours to go, he wonders how he can possibly convince someone to make a suit for him, and how they could even create it so fast, and the ghost of her soft murmurs sounds in his head (_the Elves are far more efficient than you'd think_).

With a split decision, he stands, swiftly making his way out the door and through the tunneling corridor, turning down a separate hall to fade out of sight. Red returns soon after, opening the door soundlessly to slink back in his seat, glancing over at where Abe should be with an equal expression of discomfort and revulsion flashing across his frowning face.

**I barely had any time to write today. :/ So I figured I'd just post what I was able to. And Bethmoran bathrooms... :| But there is a kind of plumbing, in a way...it's still gross to regular people, though. xD**

**Please R&R! Feedback of any kind is always appreciated! ;)**


	7. Chapter 7

Nuala wanders, free of company for a brief moment, and looks-truly looks-at Bethmora, gazing at the vast throne room she's found herself in, her eyes roaming over the domed ceiling and the intricate markings curling across its aged surface, the dark brown stone proudly displaying the golden, lined Celtic symbols as they look proudly down at the throne, which has been remade, due to the effect of time.

It's a towering seat, modeled after the one her father occupied for his entire life, awash with golden hues, and the stone back climbs up about five feet, the arms wide and steady. An aisle leads from the throne and to a small, rounded entrance, which opens up to a vast cavern, which has been abandoned, the Golden Army lying dormant there. On either side of the throne is a hall, but really more of a tunnel than anything else, and they branch off into different sectors and areas and rooms.

Nuala tiredly walks over to the throne, running her fingertips over one of the arms, and feels the memory of her father there, bright and young not at all like he was when he died, the early stages of the world lost within the darkness she sees soon after.

She blinks to clear it away and takes a seat, a thing she rarely ever does here, and leans back to rest, closing her eyes. She hates the throne, but the love she holds for it still remains, the pride of her father lingering somewhere within her.

She fidgets with her hands after a while, for lack of a better thing to do, and sighs, pretending that the times were like that of old, when she could run freely across the dewy grass and feel, somehow, the peace of the world, and not the hatred of the humans. The barely remembered moments slip away soon after, and Nuala sits, utterly alone in such a large city, feeling so lost in her own mind.

The echo of her brother's voice comes swiftly, and she feels her heart leap at the sound of it, forever haunted by the way he had once been, smiling over at her as they ran until their feet were sore, small laughter and naïve smiles, tightly held hands and the sensation of such simple love, such uncomplicated affection.

He lingers, somewhere within her, the ghost of him like a scar on her heart, and after 13 years of being alone-being a whole rather than a half-, she feels like her life has no direction, as if her compass has broken, as if her center has been knocked off of its axis.

The thought, suddenly, of Abraham brings an absent smile to her face, and she thinks of the long formed hole that her fiancée is already filling, with his steady reasoning and affectionate words, his soothing touches and calming mind.

He brings her to a new level of peace, a whole new universe of unending joy, and the excitement of the day flares up in her again, as vivid in her mind as it will be in an hour, and an elf, small and delicate and wrapped in crimson robes, rushes into the room, stopping to bow before murmuring urgently about dresses and preparations, and Nuala smiles to calm her, walking out of the room-always so predominant within her childhood memories-without so much as glance thrown behind her shoulder.

...

Appreciatively, Liz glances at an elf in the reflection living within the aged mirror, smiling as the woman laces her dress in the back, a series of complicated actions that Liz can't quite get a good view of, glad that she isn't being suffocated by a corset.

The dress falls down her body with all the smoothness of water, flowing about her loosely to avoid squeezing her stomach, and the fiery colors are bright in the candlelight. Her ebony hair lies where it has always been, completely untouched by the working hands of the maids, longer on one side than the other, a cropped style she's been familiar with for years. Her shoes aren't pinchy, and she's eternally grateful for that small fact, gazing down at the soft slippers that peek out from the silver material of her gown.

Fleetingly, she wonders how she'll get out of the dress once the wedding is over, and laughs at the idea that, suddenly, Abe is getting _married_. The fondness that fills her makes her chocolate eyes water.

...

Red doesn't let anyone near him, and fits snuggly into his normal outfit, minus the trench coat. His short-sleeved shirt is black, like always, and his leather pants make a slight noise when he walks. He _tried_ to wear slacks, but the mere image of it was hilariously wrong, and so he'd tossed the idea. He laces up his boots, wondering what Abe is going to wear-or wondering where Abe _is_-before making sure his horns are sanded down, wary of jagged edges.

As he walks out, he whistles a tune from a Disney movie, just to see the strange and baffled looks of the people around him-their eyes conveying their minds' struggles to futilely come up with the song he's whistling.

...

After gently declining the assistance of her ladies in waiting, Nuala's been having a hard time with her dress, so used to people helping her lace it at the back and fit it snugly to her frame that she has difficulty doing it on her own, and yet she persists, intent on getting the top laces above her shoulder blades tied correctly. The golden collar hugs her throat, and she feels it brushing against her chin as she stretches behind her, glancing in a mirror as she tries for the thousandth time to get it right.

A sudden intrusion has her turning all the way around, startled out of her task, before she sees the guest, her shoulders relaxing as she smiles.

An elf, with straight, pale hair cut at her chin, stands in the doorway with her hands on her hips, dressed in a green t-shirt and blue jeans, smirking, her golden eyes bright. Nuala laughs happily as she clasps her hands together, and the woman closes the door behind her, moving forward to encompass the queen in a sweeping hug.

"Faolin," Nuala murmurs familiarly, eyes closed with relief as she pulls away to meet the shorter woman's eyes.

"I was worried that you wouldn't make it."

Faolin, glancing up at her friend, smirks, shaking her head teasingly.

"I wouldn't miss this for the world, Nuala," she says warmly, her voice filled with the effect of years of companionship. Her eyes roam over Nuala's dress with an appreciative gleam, and she puts her hands on the queen's shoulders.

"Only the best, huh?"

Her accent, so different from the British lilt of Bethmora, carries a hint of New York with it, and Nuala is glad to see that things haven't changed as much as she'd always thought. She tilts her head, in thought.

"Is Terra with you?" Nuala asks excitedly, and when Faolin nods, the bride-to-be smiles with joy, her eyes bright amber in the dim lights, and she twirls around to look back at the mirror, readjusting the wrap around her waist with careful fingers.

Faolin's eyes fall upon the untied laces at her back and she goes about tying them, and Nuala lets someone else help her, for a change, rather than having them ordered to do so, and the genuine smile caught in her reflection elicits a friendly laugh from the other elf, and the two murmur, long into the last hour left, about long gone people and long lost times.

...

After nervously thanking the seamstresses for their tireless work, and quickly making his way back to his room, Abe is completely unsurprised by Red's absence.

The best man is probably somewhere roaming the city, trying to scare the elves with his strange habits-or strange _everything_.

He blinks, smiling, and walks over to the wall length mirror on one wall of his chambers, placed between the bed and closet. Draping his suit over the mattress, he inspects it with a calculating gaze, his gills anxiously moving faster than usual, his mind focused on the wedding-just under an hour away. His heart is already pounding, and his head is thrumming, and his body feels wound tight, and he can only imagine the effect it'll all have on him when it's actually happening.

_Blue _is _a lovely color_, says a familiar voice in his mind, and he laughs as he feels Nuala's thoughts brushing against his, her comments on the suit before him completely accurate.

The outfit, a previously constricting item, has been altered completely, housing within it various spaces to accommodate his fins, the inner fabric soft and smooth against his skin, so that it doesn't chafe, as it used to. The spaces living inside it aren't at all noticeable from the outside, and he marvels at the skill required for the look. The outer material is a faded silver, giving the faint impression of white, and colored with splashes and lines of blue, like waves of water.

The more Abe looks at it, the more he likes it, and the less he sees it as a suit-it's really more of a casual wear, the pants seeming to blend with the shirt.

The moment he puts it on, it's the most comfortable outfit of the day, and he smiles, utterly and unbelievingly relieved.

**Please R&R! Feedback of any kind is always appreciated! ;)**

**And there's a small kind of connection in this chapter and 'Shadow Cast', if you want to discover it. A certain...person. xD**


	8. Chapter 8

"It was dull," Faolin sighs tiredly, glancing down at her nails as she slumps in her chair, sitting across from Nuala, "and there wasn't really anything to do, and the old hags kept bickering through the _entire_ thing. It was such a mess-I almost walked out."

Nuala laughs at her friend, and the other elf looks up, smiling crookedly, her blonde hair gleaming in the dimness, the absence of golden strands making her hair seem almost completely colorless.

"I know exactly how you feel," Nuala replies agreeably, smoothing out a wrinkle in her dress, "Father had to go to those every century, and it was terribly boring when he took my brother and me along."

Her friend nods, caught up in the thought about royal meetings, when Nuala tilts her head, gazing at the ceiling as she converses with the groom, the action of her telepathy as plain as day within the shine of her eyes, Faolin so very used to it after so many years.

"I'm glad I'm just a _temporary_ sit-in. Doing this for all eternity would kill me," Faolin observes appallingly, and makes a face that Nuala doesn't see, and a gentle knock at the door has them both turning to see a petite looking elf, in official crimson robes with golden embroidery, murmuring in Gaelic.

At the same time, Nuala hears a soft sigh in her mind, coupled with the rush of excitement that courses through her and Abraham both.

_It's time_.

**This was sooo short, but I didn't want to have this piece placed in the next chapter. ;)**

**Please R&R! Feedback of any kind is always appreciated! ;)**

**Weddinnnnggg timmmeeee. xD**


	9. Chapter 9

Faolin presses the soles of her feet hard against the stone floor, trying as best as she can to control the urge to jump up and down, or run around the room with excitement, or rush to Nuala and envelop her in a sweeping hug. It's hard, and the slight squeezing on her hand keeps her mind focused on the pressure, and not on the bride walking down the aisle. Beside her, Terra gives his wife a loving smile, and she squeezes his hand in return, both of them nervous for their friend.

Liz is already waiting beside Red, standing by Abe with a hand absent-mindedly placed over her stomach, as if she's protecting what's already protected.

Abe blinks, and tries his best not to stare, and the mental connection between him and Nuala is interrupted by the immense concentration it takes to not think about how absolutely beautiful she is-so that she doesn't hear his thoughts and get nervous-and he starts at the sudden discord in their heads. Nuala blinks, but keeps her stride steady, and makes her way to stand beside him, facing the mass of elves and creatures before them, overlooking the large throne room Nuala was in earlier, standing just in front of the towering, golden seat.

The Council stands at the forefront of the crowd, draped in crimson robes dotted with gold, and Abe can spot small children being raised above their parents' heads to get a good view, and a young girl catches his eyes with her silly, gap-toothed grin, golden eyes already wiser than most of the human population. He marvels at that, and takes a deep breath to realize, once again, that the girl must be at least a thousand years old.

He thinks of the woman beside him, and she smiles at him as she feels the hum of his mind in her head, golden color darkening her pale cheeks, her amber eyes gleaming brightly.

Her eyes flick over, briefly, to gaze at her friends, two odd looking elves that stand apart from the rest of the group, staring over at them with wide smiles.

He notices the woman, with near colorless hair cut at her chin, her pointed ears jutting out from it sharply, her eyes dark gold, holding her thumbs up in the air in front of her, bouncing on the balls of her feet. The man next to her, with pale hair cut above his ears, smiles proudly, and the action crinkles the jagged scar running from his cheekbone to his hairline, creating a disheveled look at his brow and making a small gap above his forehead, where his hair can no longer grow above the scarred skin. An odd thing, Abe notices, is that they both wear modern looking clothes; plain t-shirts and blue jeans and tennis shoes.

Trevor and Sierra, dressed in their usual outfits, try not to smile, and the action just makes Abe's own smile widen, and he hears Liz sigh softly beneath her breath, grinning from ear to ear. A Council member, an elder elf with wrinkled skin and dimming eyes, walks up to them, the sleeves of his blood red robes nearly touching the ground, and pushes back his dark hood, face pulled down from years of life.

From his many conversations with Nuala, Abe knows what to do, and so he bows just as Nuala does, inclining his head as a sign of respect. Nuala's sleeves fall forward with her hair, and the cloth catches the light and thrives there, glowing golden. The elder does the same, his silvered hair still holding that shine of gold at the bottoms, and turns to the crowd before them, just as two other Council members walk up to either side of them, each with a glass of sparkling water held tightly in their grasps, resting within golden chalices.

After taking the cups from them, Abe and Nuala watch the elder as he announces in Gaelic-and Abe knows the language, since he knows Nuala better than he knows himself, having been living within her mind for years-their union, speaking in lilting tones that curl and growl and grow into other words, and Red and Liz and the twins pretend like they know perfectly well what's being said. Faolin murmurs into Sierra's ear to translate, and Terra takes it upon himself to tell Trevor, and Abe and Nuala send out their thoughts to the couple behind them.

_Our Queen, Nuala Silverlance, of Balor and Talia,_

_-_Nuala shivers within herself at the sound of her mother's name, so lost within the memories that flood Abe's mind in one moment and recede in the next-

_is, on this day, wedded to Abraham Sapien, of the humans-_

Abe manages not to flinch, and Red frowns as Abe translates the words, eyes shining, and Nuala bristles, but sighs inwardly-

_In all of eternity, we shall have our Queen and our King, and may they live well and die with peace._

Trevor's mouth turns down sharply at the odd celebratory words, but the crowd explodes into cheers, and Nuala smiles as she turns to Abe, insistent that she say her vows, just as if she were partaking in a human wedding, and Abe mimics her actions, murmuring their words of love and promises and eternities, taking their glasses and wrapping the arms that hold them together, preparing to drink out of the ancient goblets.

_Pure water from the falls of Bethmora_-

says the elder to the silencing crowd, and Faolin holds her breath-

_to complete the union. _

As Abe drinks, gazing over to Nuala, caught up in the bright light burning beneath her glimmering stare, the water that slips over his lips feels like the holiest of cleansings, and the feel of it snaking down his throat feels as if he's just found heaven, and his heart pounds hard against his ribs, utterly and completely lost to the rhythm of everyone's chants and cheers and claps, and Abe has never felt more alive.

**Please R&R! Feedback of any kind is always appreciated! ;)**


	10. Chapter 10

Long into the evening, the elves chatter amongst themselves relentlessly, and Liz keeps a hand on her stomach, idly watching them as she tries to decipher the strange words that pour from their mouths, and Red tries to track down faery wine for a good portion of the time, murmuring about his long held desire to taste it. Nuala acts like a queen around the Council members and the other creatures, and only finds herself acting at all relaxed around her closest friends and her husband, and Liz smiles at the thought.

Abe and Nuala are _married._ It's nearly impossible to get it to sound right in her head, and just as hard to make sense of it all, but the happiness she feels for her friends makes her grin wider.

Abe has never been a dancer, and Nuala smiles over at him as he sits beside Liz, knowing full well the awkward situation she'd put him in if she roped him into a dance. Faolin, noticing, rushes over to Nuala with a laugh, and tugs her over to dance with her and Terra, and Abe watches them with a smile. Liz nudges him in the ribs gently, smiling.

"Shouldn't you dance with your wife?" He blinks at her, and Sierra and Trevor laugh from their seats on the other side of their mother, shaking their heads.

"Uncle Abe doesn't dance. Everyone knows that," they both murmur teasingly, and Liz raises a brow in surprise at the unison between them, breaking out into a fit of short laughs. Abe smiles, close to laughing himself, before he sees Red in the corner of his eye, holding a half empty bottle of wine in his hand, smiling drunkenly. A pang of concern flares inside him and he jumps out of his chair to walk briskly over to his intoxicated friend, frowning before taking the bottle from Red's grasp.

"I told you it was potent, and yet you go off and get yourself drunk. Even Nuala knows not to drink the wine," he chastises worriedly, and sighs in relief as he checks his friend over, sensing only a bad hangover that's already beginning to brew. Red cracks a grin as he sees Liz, and waves his crimson colored stone fist at her as he makes his way over to sit beside her, and Abe smiles as Liz takes his normal hand to rest it on her belly, the gleam in her husband's eyes caused by something other than the wine.

Abe searches for his wife, gently weaving his way through the mass of dancing elves, before spotting Faolin, her hand in Nuala's, Terra laughing as he takes the queen's hand with a dramatic bow. Immediately, Abe knows that Terra is drunk, and he instantly blames Red for it.

Who else would have brought human alcohol? Faolin's eyes are glassy, and Nuala laughs with them as they begin to dance with each other, amused at her friends' antics. He sidles over to her with a teasing smile as he slips his webbed hand into hers. She turns, surprised, before flashing him a loving grin, eyes as golden as the glittering dress she wears.

"Shouldn't they take a break?" Nuala shakes her head, gesturing to the pair as Terra twirls Faolin, and her tennis shoes stop her from sliding as she bumps into another elf, who eyes them all warily.

"They've had plenty of years to get acquainted with all aspects of the human world. They're barely even intoxicated." He looks at her, and she gazes up at him as she leads him away, over to the table where the rest of their family is lounging.

"They're always like that, usually," Nuala explains fondly, and shrugs as Abe sends her his thoughts.

_Always? I doubt the other elves like their behavior._

She laughs, and turns to look at him over her shoulder, her sharp teeth dazzling in the dim light.

_That's the point._

Thoughts veering from rebellious elves, Abe squeezes her hand, and she waves over at Liz and Red, muffling her laughter at Red's drunken slump, a grin plastered on his red face.

"I'm not drunk yet," he mutters slowly, and squints over at Liz as she smiles at him.

"Are there two of you?"

Nuala sighs, shaking her head sympathetically at her two friends.

"The effect will wear off before the morning," She looks around her, smiling, "but be careful to keep him away from meddling goblins. They are always looking for someone to make a mistaken deal with." Liz nods gratefully before Abe looks behind her, tilting his head. Trevor turns to him, shrugging at the question in his eyes.

_"_Where's Sierra?" Abe asks, and Liz turns to find her daughter absent from the table, and she asks Trevor the same thing.

"I don't know. She went that way." He jerks his thumb behind him, and their eyes travel over to a corner of the room, where Sierra stands out with her bright red skin and waving tail, laughing at the teenage elf in front of her. Red's eyes widen, and he stands, scooting the chair back noisily, and Nuala halts him with a gentle hand on his arm, her golden sleeves brushing the ground.

"It's alright. He knows who Sierra is, and he wouldn't want to start any trouble with her aunt, believe me." Red glances at her disbelievingly and she sends him a soft smile, and Liz places a silver clad arm on his stone hand, blinking up at him with those same dark brown eyes he fell in love with so many years ago. The change she elicits within him is instant, and he takes a seat, watching his daughter warily as she leans against a wall, smiling at the boy. The elf is lean, and nearly as tall as Abe, his pale hair cut short at his ears so that it looks completely white, golden eyes gleaming brightly.

"I thought Terra and Faolin were the only ones out of the norm," Liz utters puzzlingly, pointing to him. Nuala opens her mouth to speak, but closes it with uncertainty, and shrugs with a small sigh.

"He's Terra's nephew," she explains, and Red gives her a look, induced by the tone haunting her voice. "And why do you sound so unhappy about that?" She sets her mouth in a line before shaking her head sadly.

"Terra is forbidden to speak with him, since his brother blames him for converting the boy into what he calls a "rebel". They're the only family Terra has left, since his parents were killed long ago, when we were all teenagers, and he can't even talk to them."

Nuala looks to her feet sadly, and the tips of her pointed ears twitch as she hears rustling, and looks up to find Sierra and her new companion walking toward them. The elf bows, hands clasped in front of him, his short hair falling into his eyes.

"Your Majesty," he murmurs.

"More like your aunt," Liz mutters beneath her breath, and his eyes flick over to her, opening his mouth to respond as Liz's cheeks flush scarlet, remembering how good an elf's hearing is for what seems like the first time in her life. Nuala rushes forward to stop him with a hand on his shoulder, smiling at him as they stand across from one another, nearly eye level.

"I believe Terra wishes to have words with you, Malik," she says sternly, and his cheeks color as he sends a fleeting glance at Sierra, reluctantly walking off with his shoulders slumped as Sierra watches, balling her hands into fists with annoyance. She turns to Nuala, frowning, her amber eyes lit with fire.

"Why'd you have to send him off?" Sierra questions rudely, and Liz stands to chide her before Nuala blinks, surprised.

"Terra hasn't spoken to him in dozens of centuries, and Malik's father isn't here at the moment to stop him, and I want them to have the chance." Abe squeezes her hand, and she lifts her chin, a habit well learned from years of being in her brother's overpowering presence, a way to make herself look taller-more noticeable.

"Besides, while Malik seems to want to be your friend," Sierra's cheeks darken, and Nuala catches the change with wide eyes, "or something _more_, his duty is to me, and he answers to me, as they all do. A moment stolen with you is a moment he could have with his uncle, and I'm sure there is all the time in the world for you to see him, not that your father wants there to be."

Red nods in blunt approval and Sierra takes her seat beside Trevor with a tight frown, fuming. Liz pats her knee, and the teen turns her face away, cheeks burning. A stray thought, caught up in the tangle of minds within the crowd of people, reaches Nuala, and the familiar sensation of it brings a smile to her lips.

_Thank you_. Terra's thoughts reverberate in her head, and she nods to herself, lost to the reassuring touch of Abe's fingers within her own.

...

The party dwindles, and Liz finds herself yawning, completely overtaken with exhaustion from the day's activity, and she turns to Nuala, who hastily offers a steaming cup of tea to a recovering Red, who clutches his head with a grimace as he greedily takes the cup, sipping it to pass the time until it's cold enough to drink. Sierra, at Liz's side, talks adamantly about Malik, and Liz feels nausea for a reason other than her pregnancy, nodding tiredly.

Trevor puts his chin on his folded arms, resting against the table top, and Liz interrupts her daughter hastily, sending her an apologetic smile as she tries to talk over Red's discomforted grunts.

"So, where are you guys going, again? I don't think you ever told us," she asks curiously, and smiles as, suddenly, the foreign thought of their secretive mall trip flashes in Nuala's mind, and she blushes furiously as she ducks her head, Liz's knowing grin burning beneath her eyelids. Abe blinks at the two, and catches an image from one of Nuala's stray thoughts, and swallows to calm his pounding heart, the rush of blood heating his face as his gills flap faster, looking around him to avoid looking at Nuala, for fear of an image of his own finding its way into _her_ head. Nuala shrugs off the thoughts, and the sensations at the back of her mind, to meet Liz's question head on, shrugging.

"We thought of Italy, but we wouldn't have been able to see any of the sights. The people there are rather hostile to our kind, as you all know."

Absently, Red nods in agreement, the warm tea having its effect as his winces start to decrease in number, and he looks up at them, squinting against the light as he ignores Liz's teasing comment on how it's actually pretty dark inside.

Behind them all, Malik makes his way to the table, and Sierra brightens at the sight of him, smiling as she takes his hand to run off into the throng of people.

"So, we just decided that we'd stay here, in Ireland. It would be more convenient, anyway," Abe answers quietly, and Liz looks around her, frowning.

"But where would you two stay? It's just big open spaces and tiny, cramped pavilions."

At the slightly offended look Nuala gives her, she smiles regrettably, and Nuala smiles in turn.

"We would-that is, there are chambers throughout. My old chambers still remain, untouched, of course," Nuala forces, blushing furiously, and Liz catches the sight with a slow, teasing grin, leaning away from the table to laugh, startling Red out of his wine induced haze as he gives her an irritated stare. Trevor, surprised by his mother's outburst, looks around him, and frowns, in thought.

"So, where's Sierra?" Red goes on full alert, and frantically looks around them before standing, slamming his tea mug down onto the table top.

"That damn elf," he mutters loudly, and Liz rushes after him as he starts into the crowd, holding her stomach protectively as she keeps close on his trail.

...

After a long search, and an even longer talk with a blushing Sierra and awkwardly stuttering Malik, and a congratulatory goodbye, Red and Liz-with a laughing Trevor and infuriated Sierra in tow-leave, and Terra stands beside Faolin and Malik to see them off, all waving. If Malik's wave is a bit sadder than necessary, no one comments, save for Terra, who leans over to whisper in his nephew's ear:

"I'll arrange some things, how about that?" And Malik's smile is all the more grateful.

With a just a few hours left until midnight, Faolin manages to clear out the room, and Terra laughs as she uses her repelling (to the elves, at least) nature to ward them away. She flips her hair when it's all said and done with, and dusts off her shoulders with a cocky grin, before looping her arm in her husband's, tugging him away as she beckons to Malik, who follows them down a tunneling corridor, going his separate way into his own room.

Nuala is at once grateful that the elves don't decorate-relieved of the duty to un-decorate-, and sighs as she tiredly leads Abe down a winding series of tunnels, all seemingly longer and darker than the last. She holds a candle in front of her, smiling softly in the light that dances across her scarred features.

"My father wanted to make sure it wasn't easy to reach his family, in case there was an invasion." Abe nods with a smile, taking her hand, and at the contact, her eyes widen, and he thinks, suddenly, of how fast his gills are flapping, and of how hard his heart is brushing against his ribs. He swallows nervously and retracts his hand from hers, rubbing the pads of his palms together fretfully. Nuala blushes and continues to make her way down the halls, finally stopping before a simple looking door seemingly etched into the side of the earth.

When she opens it-and Abe still agrees with Liz on the fact that stone doors aren't the best idea-a swirl of candlelight greets them, and he blinks to adjust his vision. Her room is ornately simple, in an odd kind of way, with the circular patterns lining the walls, the ancient Celtic symbols that remind him of the spiraling scar at the corners of her forehead. A dark oak chest of drawers, and a large closet, occupies one side of the room, while a large golden vanity stands opposite them, beside the nightstands that flank either side of the massive bed that reaches to the middle of the vast room.

The covers look soft, and the blue color reminds him briefly of the ocean, with sewn patterns embroidered into the cloth. The pillows are large, and he has to remind himself that royalty is more than just being responsible for a whole nation as he averts his eyes, still too nervous to look at the bed for very long as he distracts himself with the bookshelf to his left, a towering thing of dark wood and ancient tomes, colors of blues and greens and browns atop the aged shelves. Nuala walks over, her shoes clicking loudly in the silence, to run her hand over the piece of furniture, smiling softly, before turning to him. She points to her left, to the rest of the room that he can't see, thanks to the wall that the shelf leans against.

"The washroom is over there, and there's a small corridor beside it that leads to a nice little pool of water." She smiles as she lifts her shoulders.

"Only my friends and I know about it, so I doubt anyone will bother you if you sleep there." He blinks in surprise before starting forward, catching her arm just before she starts to head to the bathroom to change into less constricting clothes, and she turns to him with a nervous gleam in her eyes.

"I, uh, thank you, but I might try sleeping out of water-for tonight," he hastily murmurs, and her eyes widen a fraction before she schools her features, ignoring the sudden warmth in her cheeks, and his touch on her arm feels like too much as she smiles, nodding in understanding before moving to her closet to pull out a blue and white nightgown, with sleeves that remind him of her underdress and a loose collar.

She glances at him out of the corner of her eye, and he feels his face burn just as he sees her own heat up, and she swallows before quickly walking out of sight and into the bathroom, the click of the door such a loud noise as he stands, alone, near the bed, gazing over at it with his Adam's apple bobbing.

He sighs, and sits gently down on it, blushing as he notices how soft it is. He puts his face in his hands, and shakes his head with a frustrated sigh.

"What is _wrong_ with me?"

**Please R&R! Feedback of any kind is always appreciated! ;)**


	11. Chapter 11

_He sat within the waning light of the flickering fire, immersed in the sight of his shoes, golden eyes downcast and blurred with tears, drying water tracks already staining his pale cheeks. In his arms, his son wailed, small mouth agape as if in agony, shivering in his father's warm embrace, the reaching touch of the orange flames unable to calm him. He looked down, brow furrowed, scolding: _

_"Hush, Malik." _

_Terra ran in, shoving the door open with all of his youthful strength, sweat beading down his unmarred forehead as he stood, panting, in the doorway. His hair was grown past his shoulders, the amber ends shining, his crimson robes shimmering with movement. The man holding his baby glanced up absently, and he frowned at Terra. _

_"Brother, where are our parents?" _

_Terra's brother neglected to answer, choosing instead to gently rock his sniffling child. In his adolescence, Terra was temperamental, and he rushed forward in anger, grabbing his brother's shoulders. _

_"Tell me where they are!" Terra shouted, enraged, startling the boy further. His brother shook his head slowly, long strands of white shaking with the action, and gazed tiredly up at the younger man. _

_"They went outside."_

_ As Terra's eyes rounded, he shoved his brother away, ignoring the baby's tearful protests and the man's low murmurs of sacrifice and necessity and deals. _

_Terra ran back through the door and down the countless tunnels leading to the above world, where the iron stench of blood scented the air and drenched the sky overhead. The clashing of swords overpowered his ears, and he cupped his hands over them as he ran, head on, into the crowd of men and creatures massed in front of the entrance to Bethmora, screaming at the top of their lungs as they fought their last fight, piercing yells of pain slicing through the humming screeches and gurgling noises of wounds just inflicted. Terra rushed through the people, blood of all colors splashing onto his paling face, screaming as loud as he could._

_ "Mother! Father!" _

_A sword flew through the air and tumbled to the ground at his feet, and he shakily picked it up as he stumbled across the blood soaked ground, crying out with tears in his eyes. The half demolished camp tents were still where he'd last saw them, and he spotted his parents near one, kneeling upon the ground with tear soaked faces , pleading with a human staring down at them, a gleaming, blood crusted blade in his hand. He could hear their dismayed begging, reminding the man of their children ("Please, our children- they'll be orphaned! We can make a new deal!"), clawing at his feet as two other humans restrained them, yanking on their hair to pull them back. _

_Terra's mother screamed in pain, and her golden eyes were wider than he'd ever seen, and his father wept openly, clasping his hands together as he pleaded for mercy. The two men had to hold his arms behind his back, and he struggled against them before the man with the blade swung the hilt of his knife into the elf's face, drawing blood and a sharp yelp of pain. Terra pushed on, and shoved through the mass of sailing swords and falling creatures, to scream at them, and his father turned, alarmed, just as his mother caught his stare with a remorseful one of her own, and she cried out to him to stay back, her Gaelic hurried and jumbled. _

_Terra instantly obeyed, shocked by the entreating urgency in her voice, and watched, stricken, as one of the humans yanked back his mother's hair, leaving her pale throat fully exposed, and Terra's father shouted in sorrow as the other human brought the blade up to kiss her skin, slicing the flesh there in one swift motion before she crumpled, limp and lifeless, to the soiled earth, glassy eyes staring at nothing. _

_Terra screamed, and rushed forward, not making it to them in time to save his father, and he met the same end, landing on the ground with a thump as Terra raised his sword for battle, screeching at them. The human turned, just in time, to block Terra's swing, and the other two sliced their blades, now flashing in their hands, across the arm that held his sword, and he agonizingly dropped the weapon, falling to his knees as he sobbed in anger and grief, staring down at his parents._

_ He reached up to yank the knife out of the human's hand, but the man was far too swift for it, and he brought the blade down on Terra's face, slicing down his forehead and over his eye, and the teen cried out in pain, his face lit with a searing fire, torso dropping to the ground as he nearly blacked out from the agony. _

_"Terra!" _

_In the next moment, he heard Faolin's familiar cry, and turned his head just in time to, blurrily, see her weaving through the crowd, jumping into the air in all of her golden glory, two shining dual swords held in her grasp, a tribal mask concealing her face. It made her look demonic, and yet angelic, as she sailed through the air, her pale hair floating around her as if caught up in slow motion, and when she landed, so did the human, a sword pinning his chest to the ground as he gasped for air. _

_She yanked it out of his body thoughtlessly, and spun around to slice the second man's throat, crimson blood spewing from the artery there. She caught the last man's blow with her forearm, blocking his attack, and kicked at his feet, knocking his footing out from under him as she swung her blade to make a clean line across his stomach, and Terra turned away at the outpour of intestines with a grimace as he held his face in his hands, whimpering. _

_She kneeled before him, sure of their safety amidst the roiling crowd of soldiers, and cradled his head in her loving embrace, apologizing at the sight of his slain parents beside them._

_ Quickly and violently, Nuada surged from the merging faces, breaking apart from the crowd to rush to them, lifting his own mask from his face to throw it carelessly onto the hard ground, eyes wide with shock. _

_"Terra?" Nuada asked disbelievingly. He kneeled before them, blades extended in preparedness, pulling Terra's bloodied hands from his face long enough to see the gaping wound down his face._

_ Faolin gasped, and turned to Nuada for guidance, one warrior to another, and he gave her a hard look before murmuring lowly to her, and Terra couldn't hear the words for the pounding in his head, the pulsing rush of blood that became a tangible thing as he swayed, leaning completely against Faolin as his vision swam out of focus, the roaring battle raging on behind him. _

Terra wakes, as he often does, with a pang of adrenaline, and he claws at the bed sheets in fear, eyes flying open. He sits up quickly, chest heaving, breathing hard and loud in the nightly silence, eyes gleaming with terror.

The sight of Faolin, curled up at his side as she snuggles more beneath the blankets, calms him, and he swallows thickly, mouth dry, and tries to blink away the nightmare. The memories in his head taunt him when he at last lays back down to sleep, and the echoes of aged screams fill his head to keep the silence at bay, and the images of pale throats sliced open in a mere second take over the darkness when he closes his eyes.

Faolin, obliviously wrapped within her own dreams, smiles lazily, and nuzzles closer to him to find warmth, and the small smile tugging at his lips makes it all stop, if only for just a moment.

...

Abe, awkwardly trying to find the most comfortable sitting position on Nuala's overly large bed- and already stripped down to his shorts because the air conditioner doesn't exist in Bethmora-laughs at himself in the silence, and it comes out shaky. He sighs, and runs a hand down his face, his palm brushing over the scar there, just as a soft knock sounds at the door.

He reluctantly abandons his mission to find a good place to sit and slowly makes his way to the door, having to try harder than usual to tug it open, and a petite elf stands in the hallway, swathed in ruby robes that pool at her feet as she nudges two suitcases over to him, her pale cheeks already a bit reddened from the exerting trek to the royal chambers. He leans over to take them, smiling thankfully.

"I could have gone and gotten these-"

"Your living things, Your Highness," she interrupts, and bows to him, hair falling forward. He blinks, noting how her formal tone is tense, her eyes downcast to avoid meeting his gaze. He shakes his head, opening his mouth to reply.

"But I'm not a-"

Immediately, as if any direct socialization is somehow forbidden and improper, she hurriedly walks away, her hands clasped respectfully in front of her. He watches her small form disappear in the shadows of the hall, and sighs as he carries his suitcases into the room, trying and nearly failing to shoulder the heavy door closed, perplexed at the girl's behavior.

He sets the suitcases on the floor, leaning them up against a wall, deeming them a task for tomorrow, and plops down on the bed, his nerves high strung. Around ten minutes into the silence that surrounds him, save for the soft splashes of water coming, muffled, from the bathroom door, Abe is berating himself in a dozen different ways, muttering lowly to no one about how silly he's acting. It's a tiring action, and it only ends up making him even more nervous, and he tries to relax, tries to feel as he would if he were surrounded by the lulling touch of the water, tries and tries and only barely succeeds, managing to release the tension from his shoulders.

Lost to his thoughts, he doesn't notice the hushed sound of the door opening, and the telltale thump of Nuala's footsteps against the stone floor, the soles of her bare feet quiet as she pads across the room, appearing from the veil the hallway creates as if in an instant, and Abe looks up, startled by her seemingly sudden presence.

Her gown is glaringly different from her usual dresses, the layers and layers of cloth cut down to just a single slip of cotton, blue designs embroidered along the edges of the sleepwear, long sleeves ending delicately at her wrists, the gown falling to her ankles. It's far more revealing than what she usually wears, and Abe has to remind himself to blink, and to try not to stare at her for too long, but the neckline, though modest, reveals the lightly tinted veins of her chest, displayed through her moon pale skin, which is flushed with embarrassment as she fidgets with her hands, looking back down at her feet whenever she tries to meet his eyes. Her light hair rests against her shoulders in wet, clumped strands, and he takes a deep breath, wondering how to voice his own hesitance without offending her.

"We don't have to do anything."

And that, the first words that somehow come out of his mouth, is not what he had in mind. He mentally slaps himself, and her eyes widen a fraction, her lips parting in surprise. It's all in a matter of a single second, and the way her face changes reflects the dejected look of a scolded puppy, and he hurriedly steps forward to make up for his foolish mouth.

"That's, that's _not_ what I meant. I mean, we can-I…if you want to." She gazes at him, tilting her head as that look slowly vanishes from her face, and screws her mouth up, displeased with something as she shakes her head, confused.

"Why would I _not_?" Her words are naively simple, and Abe initially thinks there's been an interruption in communication, staring at her like the answer's written on her forehead. She just gazes steadily back, eyes narrowed in her struggle to understand what he's saying, and he breaches the space between them, already noticing his amazingly awful knack for words, taking her hand in his own to let her feel what he wants to say rather than hear it, and her eyes widen as she slowly begins to nod in comprehension.

"Oh…"

She can hardly say anything more, and he wants so terribly to explain to her the source of his slight, foolish apprehension, before she breaks out into a small fit of laughter, covering her mouth with the hand not occupied by his own, eyes shining over at him. If it were any other person in the world, Abe would be immensely offended by the display, but he waits until she's calmed down enough to speak again, patiently awaiting her reasoning for laughing at him. She swallows and stifles a smile, breaking apart their joined hands to lean the backs of her legs against the edge of the bed.

"It's quite an absurd notion, don't you think, for us both to be so hesitant?" Nuala asks seriously, the corners of her lips turned up in mystification.

"For you to be worried about what I'll think, and for me to be worried about what you'll think?"

Abe blinks and sighs in agreement, that same undercurrent of nerves making it come out shaky as he crosses his arms, just to have something to do.

"When you put it like that, it sounds foolish," he murmurs quietly, frowning, "but it's there, nonetheless. Falling in love with you would seem exactly like this, hm?" She nods and finally rests on the bed covers, folding her hands atop her lap as she gazes up at him, shrugging tiredly.

"Falling in love just seemed to happen, really," she recalls with a memory riddled smile, eyes brightly gleaming in the light cast by the candles. He leans over, face close to hers, hand planted on the covers beside her, wordlessly opening his mouth in puzzlement as he shakes his head.

"And shouldn't this? Should it really be so difficult?" Nuala stares at him for a moment, eyes sparkling with agreement, and she blinks up at him, smiling shyly as color floods her cheeks, the light scars darkening on her skin. Carefully, and with skilled tenderness, Nuala puts a hand on his arm, her fingertips resting across the stripes there, tilting her head so that she sees him at an angle, holding her breath.

"No one ever said it had to be."

A rush of sensations meets his thoughts, and he gains her perspective as easily as slipping on a beloved jacket, or dipping down into the water he so dearly cherishes, her mind as readily open to him as any book.

_Why are we both so hesitant? _

Her voice, usually so thoughtfully subdued within his mind, trembles, and he can feel the flash of fright she feels at the prospect of something so entirely new to her, something so foreign and unknown, her hesitance nearly tangible. He can feel her reluctance to bare herself to him, so concerned about the scars on her skin, and he rests his hand on top of hers, squeezing gently.

_That doesn't matter, you know that._

"You're the most beautiful person I've ever laid eyes on. It would be impossible to look anything less, no matter what rests on your skin," he reassures out loud, and the catch of tears lights in her bright eyes as she smiles at him, her hand warm beneath his.

_No one has ever thought me beautiful._

It's a surprise, and a damn near crime, that Abe interprets her statement as, so shocked to hear that not a single person has ever looked upon her face and felt like the world was titling beneath their very feet. Suddenly, and completely unbidden, his own reasoning pours from him and into her touch, and he chides himself on letting his mental walls down so completely as she shakes her head in refusal. His thoughts, and self-admissions, on how he looks is nothing new to him, but Nuala discovers the origin of his anxiety with nothing short of shock, and squeezes his hand softly, looking up at him sadly.

_I would have you look no other way. _She cocks her head, her lips turning upward. _I rather like the color blue, you know. _

He laughs, and runs a finger down the soft texture of the blue cloth on her sleeve, nodding.

_I can tell._

"I love you," she leans in to whisper, her hold tight on his fingers.

"And I love you, princess," he returns softly, smiling down at her as they stand, a hair's breadth apart from one another. Her eyes, when they look up into his own, are undeniably imploring, and she takes a slow breath, the sound of it something he can hear like sirens in his head, the spot of clarity right before a cataclysmic turn of reality.

Her eyelids flutter as their connection flares up, and he feels it like white noise flashing behind his eyes, unexpectedly jarring him. The moment he meets her eyes, he sees the burning light lying within their amber depths, and her pulse thrums beneath his touch like that of a captured creature, frantically hoping to be free.

"Then show me," she whispers hoarsely, and Abe can't stop himself from leaning into her touch on his arm, too caught up in the warmth of her skin to halt his action of capturing her lips with his, and the soft way she hums lights his senses on fire, as if he's burning from the inside out, but the pain remains a numb thing, frozen within him.

He moves his hand away from her own to cup her cheek, pulling her face closer as she brings her arms to wrap them around his neck, careful of his gills. Nuala feels all too warm, and too far away, and she clings to him, pressing her lips to his in a repetitive motion as her fingers trail down his neck. His skin is like ice, has always been so, and the feel of it is an odd thing, for it to clash so drastically with the heat of her own flesh. She sends him a thought-a muddled, distorted murmur in his head-telling him to calm his rapidly beating heart, for she feels it pounding against her chest just as fiercely as she feels her own thumping within her.

Her fingers shake, and her lips quiver against his, and her body is wound tight with tension, as she runs a hand over the smooth skin of his shoulders, feeling the lean muscles there-earned from countless hours of swimming. It is only as he tenses within her embrace, surprised by her touch, does she find the chance to smile against his lips, and she brings him closer to whisper to him, slipping her other hand into his. Only when Abe snakes his  
arm around her waist to pull her flush against him, legs tangled together, do they both realize the true reach of telepathy, and he makes a startled noise in the back of his throat as she kisses his craned neck.

Running his free hand up her leg, he pushes aside the skirt of her gown, and she tightens her grip on his shoulders as his cold fingertips brush against the burning skin of her thigh, over a raised scar there. She blushes, still far too self-aware, and he sits up to lean over, pressing his lips against the puckered skin of her scar, as he gazes over at her shocked expression.

_I told you. It doesn't matter-_

Hardly caring to wait for the rest of his declaration, she hastily pulls him into her embrace, lying on her back as he's carried on top of her by her momentum, blushing as he realizes that he's straddling her waist. She pulls him down to kiss him-a languid, slow movement that makes him almost impatient- and he puts a hand beneath her to pull her closer, steadying his balance with his other arm.

It's not long before she laughs-a soft, free sound that shakes him to the core-and the bare floor is only so for just a little while, accompanied by their clothing as they're tossed carelessly away. Her hesitance dwindles every time he finds a new scar, and she feels almost reborn, like all of her past tears have been for nothing, as if all of the people who looked down on her face with revulsion were in the wrong.

She feels, for the very first time in her long life, absolutely _beautiful_, and he smiles against her skin as she shivers beneath him, his finger running down a jagged scar across her abdomen-she remembers the pain, now like phantom sensations, as it had sliced through her, the tears she'd cried as she'd curled up on the floor, clutching her wound-and Abe shows how skillfully diligent his hands can be, while she discovers how much her own can, curiously and mesmerizingly, explore.

And if Abe laughs when she wraps her legs around his waist-a sound she's rarely ever heard, a sound that makes her feel as if the world has been set right, a sound that sends her into a fit of laughter-she doesn't mention it, too ensnared in the feeling of him as she keeps him close, the soft moan that escapes him as she kisses his gills-in the same moment that he moves forward with a sigh, eliciting a gasp from her that shakes through them both- forever imprinted into her memory.

...

Long into the night, tangled within the light sheets, Nuala turns to glance at her husband, the sensation of him against her still fresh in her mind, and she reaches out to brush the back of her hand against his cheek, his slumbering eyes still held wide open, unblinking. His gills flap slowly, and she runs a finger down the scar on his cheek, feeling the ghost of her touch upon her own face, sighing.

She scoots closer to him, resting her head on his chest, sensing, for once, a small warmth within him, like a tiny fire that hasn't had a chance to grow, and she feels a relieving chill within her own body. She doesn't need to touch his hand to see his dreams, and the fresh connection she feels with him reminds her all too well of a connection severed years ago, where two souls had been eternally bound.

She smiles, knowing that he dreams of her, and snuggles closer to his body to help her sleep, completely aware of the dream-always of him-she'll have when she at last finds slumber.

And if, in a subconscious action of sleep, he lazily wraps an arm around her waist beneath the covers, his index finger drawing slow circles on her hip, she pretends not to notice, for fear of waking him with the excitement threatening to blossom in her thoughts, her stomach fluttering like a thousand butterflies captured within her, and she smiles against his chest, happier than she's ever felt in all of her life.

...

Faolin rolls, quite unceremoniously, over to rest her nose flat against Terra's shoulder, a tiny habit of sleep she's developed over the long years spent next to one another, wrapped up in the sheets, and he smiles over at her, craning his neck to kiss the top of her pale hair with a careful gentleness. The night is slowly waning, and he sighs inwardly, tired of all the sleepless hours spent staring at the ceiling.

He feels the sweep of her eyelashes against his skin, and is surprised to find that she's not even asleep anymore, and in the next instant he feels the slow spread of her smile on his shoulder. It pulls from him a grin of his own, and she moves her head to stare up at him, eyes glowing in the darkness, like tiny fires caught within her gaze, and he reaches up to brush a thumb down her cheek, her skin burning beneath his touch.

"How do you think Nuala and Abe are doing?" Faolin asks sleepily, her voice slurring with exhaustion, and his smile turns crooked as he tilts his head.

"They're doing just _fine_, I'd say."

She hits him lightly on the chest, stifling her laughter, and he catches the gleam of mirth in her eyes as she attempts to control her beaming smile, shaking her head at him as she fakes a scandalized expression. His eyes squint with laughter as he contains it, and he shrugs, serious.

"They'll be alright. Nuala has a good head on her shoulders, and Abe is a good person. They'll get along; they'll make it," he murmurs reassuringly down at his wife, and her playful expression melts into one of concern as she looks down at her hands, splayed out possessively on the smooth expanse of his chest.

"I know, but Nuala knows so much, and yet so little. She's just so new to everything, and I'm worried she won't be able to-"

"But she _will_. She'll spend her time here, for however long, and leave with Abe when their honeymoon is over. You'll be the temporary queen again, and we'll pretend like we're shocked when they bring back a fish kid."

She smiles, giving him a withering look at his last words, and curls against him, drawing shapes and letters on his heated flesh.

"Nightmares?" The question doesn't need any further explanation, and he sighs, deflating.

"Yeah," he murmurs sadly, and she slips her hand into his beneath the covers, squeezing his fingers gently, finally at a loss for words after so many thousands of centuries of saying the exact same thing-_they'll go away._

_..._

Red, completely worn out from the day's activities and already greeting his hangover like a long lost friend, laughs as Liz struggles to change into her nightly tank top and panties-her limply moving arms and swaying body, coupled with the constant drooping of her eyelids, are no match for the difficulty of changing.

She looks like she's about to pass out with exhaustion just standing in the middle of the room, tugging off her pants with slight complications, and she gives him a half awake glare as he grins over at his wife.

The twins, having immediately fallen asleep as soon as their bodies had hit the mattresses, snore-or at least Trevor does-and Red can hear it, the sound amplified by his alcohol-faulted delicate senses, coming from the other room.

He winces in between laughs, and Liz finally manages to plop down on the bed, not caring to wrap the covers about her. He does it for her, or tries, and makes his way to the bathroom, his stomach turning in a thousand unpleasantly different ways.

**Please R&R! Feedback of any kind is always appreciated! ;)**


	12. Chapter 12

Nuala is the first to wake, pulled from her dreams by the sound of children running down the hall-or the sound of children running down the hall, only to realize that they're not allowed to enter that hallway for the moment, the elves wanting to give the newlyweds the utmost privacy, gasping in realization before they quietly and quickly trek back the way they came.

It makes her smile, and she blinks away the bleary visions of lasting slumber before lifting her head, her hair still slightly damp from last night's bath, her shoulders, bared by the downward tugging of the covers, chilled by the air. She carefully sits up, resting against the large oak headboard with practiced silence, trying as best she can not to wake her husband.

The elf looks down at him, rubbing the tops of her shoulders to warm them, and feels a swell of love surge through her, making her unreasonably giddy as she swallows her excited laughter. Trying to calm herself, Nuala instinctively focuses her thoughts in the back of her mind, so that she can sense anything else around her-an action familiar to her even in the half remembered years of long ago-and finds Abe's slumbering presence, as overpowering to her as the threat of an eruption from a volcano long dormant. It's nearly like that, in a way-so unaccustomed to the feeling of someone occupying her mind in her years apart from Nuada-and the sensation of it thrills her, his dreaming visions of her as clear as if he were seeing her with his own eyes, a memory from the night before-_her lying back against the pillows, moistly tangled hair splayed about her as she gazes up at him, his fingers idly tracing a faint scar on her shoulder_-that still sends pleasant tingles through her.

Abe's conscious is sharp, and ultimately experienced for his number of years, and so it takes her by surprise when he senses her, peering in on his dream as he becomes more and more aware of her both in his mind and lying beside him. She tucks the covers beneath her arm, keeping them tight to her chest, watching as he blinks, his gills moving faster from the initial shock of waking, and he manages to tilt his head to gaze up at her, wordlessly staring into her milky eyes.

Both are taken aback by the immediate rush within their minds, the entanglement that loops their thoughts together in a string of nonsensical images and whispers, echoes of voices and flashes of faces merging together to create a mixed up jumble of discord, and Nuala watches Abe flinch just as she does the same. She can hear his command, catching his thought to his own mind to simply _stop_, and the noise in their heads dissipates reluctantly, dimming down until it vanishes completely, leaving only a small awareness behind. And she _is_ aware. Nuala can feel every beat of his heart as if it were her own, feel every hitch in his breath as if made by her own lungs, feel every sensation he experiences as if she herself were experiencing them.

Abe, staring at her from his confines beneath the covers, sighs, and it rattles her as if she's just now sighed herself, and she knows that he feels the same. He reaches out, tentatively and a little hesitantly, to touch his fingertips to the back of her hand, and Nuala feels the touch as if it's been amplified, the way his icy fingers come into contact with her warm skin felt in a dozen different ways. She catches snippets of thoughts-_weird, wonder, touch_-and breaks into a smile, a wide, beaming expression that elicits a small laugh from him, and he sits up, the covers falling away to reveal his blue, striped skin, the creamy white space that stretches from his abdomen to the lean muscles of his chest, and she smiles as she places a hand atop the tiny scar on his shoulder, her hand smoothing over the raised skin, her fingernails scratching along the top of his back as he moves, swiftly and unexpectedly, to scoop her into his arms, and she squeals playfully as he deposits her on his side of the bed, looming over her with just inches between them.

She loops one arm over his back, absently stroking the fin that runs down his spine as her other arm snakes down and over his chest to press against the salmon tinted webbing between his arm and torso, and he dips his head down, pressing his lips to hers-the flash of color and tingles and pleasure run through them both, their senses on high alert, their every movement reverberating in their heads-as her heart pounds wildly, her chest pressed to his as he bears down on her.

She hooks her legs around the backs of his knees and greedily pulls him closer, sighing as his grip on her thigh tightens, and he moves his lips to drag them down her throat.

_Good morning, _he murmurs through their link, and she smiles as she wraps her arms around him.

The morning, meant to be full of activity and breakfast and unpacking, quickly turns into the afternoon, wrapped up in each other with multitudes of pleasured pants and stifled moans, and Nuala can think of no morning so wonderful.

...

Terra makes his own coffee, and smirks at the disinterested gazes of the early birds as they pass him in the vast kitchen, and has no problem with serving Faolin her share, too. It's an arduous task, one that makes him want to quit before he begins, but it's worth it, sitting over the hot fire as he boils water and coffee beans, watching the surface bubble and steam as he ignores the elves avoiding him.

There aren't many people up, thankfully, at so early an hour of the morning, except Abe and Nuala. Terra knows they're up, has known Nuala's sleep patterns ever since he was very young, and knows that Abe is a morning person. Laughingly, he doubts they're up and moving-out of bed, that is-and smiles to himself. Judging by his own honeymoon experience, eons ago, with Faolin, he knows he won't be seeing the newlyweds for a long while. Straining the liquid after it's all said and done, he pours two steaming cups, and takes them in each hand, completely unperturbed by the scalding metal against his skin.

There _are _perks to being fireproof.

After trudging, lazily clinging to that warm feeling of sleep, down the many tunnels it takes to get to their room, he pushes open the door with his hip and promptly sets a cup down on the nightstand closest to Faolin, who's currently splayed out on her stomach upon the white cotton covers, shoulders relaxed with slumber, her flush lips parted as her golden eyelids flutter with dreams.

He sits on the edge of the bed so the mattress doesn't dip and wake her up, and is content to watch her sleep in her black shorts and white undershirt, her pale hair spread about her pillow in tangled strands.

The coffee is not at all like Starbucks', and he grimaces before sipping it methodically, surrounded by the world of his youth, forever yearning for the city life he left behind-so very reminiscent of the city he always dreamed of seeing, long days spent sneaking peeks at the above world, clutching Faolin's hand with promise as he spoke of his future.

...

_He was lanky, with startling blue eyes that peeked out of his dark hair, and Edith took an instant liking to him, smiling over at him with her powdered face, forever framed by her perfectly placed curls of brown hair. He was always nervous around her, stumbling over both his words and his feet, and she laughed at his dumbfounded expression when she placed a gentle kiss upon his cheek, a feather light touch of affection that made both their hearts pound wildly. _

_The more she learned about the kind scientist, the deeper she loved him, and no one could take her hand in theirs, smiling over at her with such obvious infatuation, and make her blush the way he did. It wasn't long before she kissed him, interrupting his animated and detailed explanation of a new discovery-some kind of fishlike creature-and making him stop dead in his tracks. _

_His smile, when she pulled away with a flutter of something deep in her heart, nearly melted her, and she couldn't say no when he at last asked for her hand in marriage. That day, he used his hands to talk-whether they were wrapped around her waist or thrown in the air with excitement, he used them, and she'd never seen a man speak with gestures more than Langdon Everett Caul. _

_..._

_Faolin was a warrior, through and through. It drove her, gave her motivation, and lent her strength when she was weak. She ignored all of the puzzled glances from the rest of the elves, and she broke through the standard, proudly wielding a sword just as well as any man. Nuada didn't shun her, and instead recognized that familiar bloodlust in her eyes, teaching her everything he could in secret. _

_Nuala would watch, mesmerized by the clash of swords as if she felt every clang within her own heart, and Nuada gave her mocking sideways glances often, smiling crookedly as she blushed and averted her staring eyes. Faolin stayed out of their business-already knowing well her friend's inner turmoil she hid so cleverly-and fought and sparred and practiced as much as she could, and when the time came, when the moment called her to action, she was ready. _

_Surging into battle had never been what her parents had thought she would do in her future years as they'd looked down at her innocent toddler face, but now, they could never look upon her-death tended to have that effect-and her heart grew hardened at the lost memory of their faces. Fighting with Nuada was satisfying enough, but it was the sensation of cutting open a man's throat that thrilled her, watching human after human fall at her hand. _

_She knew that Nuala would be appalled, horrified at all of the death Faolin so very much loved, but the young princess knew enough to never ask questions._

_ That was how their relationship worked. _

_And when the warrior spotted an out of place Terra crumpled on the ground, blood pooling in his hands, Faolin had saved her long- time boyfriend, dragging him off with Nuada to let Nuala handle him. She was already so very experienced with scars, and the thought sent a twinge of guilt through Faolin, seeing bandages covering her royal friend's body, compliments of the war Nuada was fighting, crimson slashes all across his pale flesh. _

_The question of how Terra had gotten in his situation crossed her mind later, when it was all over, but the war called her and she answered, slaughtering more and waiting less, letting the sorrow and anger pour from her through the slice of a blade._

_Centuries later, when Terra reluctantly agreed, now her long-time husband, to fight alongside her (living their new life in the above world), Faolin took up arms in every single battle, fighting with humans and magical creatures alike to win whatever cause they wished, completely lured by the promise of blood. _

_Maybe it was some eternal quest for vengeance, or maybe it was the light she recognized in Terra's own eyes-shining brightly as he slew a man violently. _

_Or maybe, through all of her years, Faolin just wanted to belong somewhere, so obviously an outcast in Bethmora, always yearning to join in on the fight-the one commonality that bonded hundreds of differing people: kill or be killed. _

**Please R&R! Feedback of any kind is always appreciated! ;)**

**And kudos to anyone who knows what the first flashback is about... xD **


	13. Chapter 13

Finding that Nuala can't take being cooped up in a room filled with old memories for too long, Abe finally suggests swimming in the pool she'd mentioned the night before, and smiles down at her as she laughs in excitement, clapping her hands together before hastily lifting up her skirts so that she can sprint down a hall beside the bathroom, his hand circling her wrist as she leads him into a large, empty cavern with a single pool sending steam into the air.

The surface is clear, and reminds him entirely of the crystalline waters of Jamaica-a mission coming to his mind from years past-and she kicks off her pale blue slippers, made of silk and lace, to dip her bare, scarred feet into the warm water, and the relaxed smile she sends his way is enough to make his heart pound as he dives headfirst into the pool, her surprised yelps as she's splashed lost to him by the swallowing rush of water in his ears as he swims down.

He sees her distorted image as he looks up, and she quickly dives in after him, her gown floating around her in a restricted shape, her underwater smile just as vivid as the one she wears above it.

...

When Faolin finally wakes, it's to the sound of laughter and nervous murmurs, and she squints at the unforgivingly bight light cast by the dwindling candles to see Terra, reclined in his favorite chair-bought, begrudgingly, from one of their many stops at furniture stores in the cities-his feet crossed atop the table's wooden surface. Across from him sits Malik, and the boy's pointed ears are bright pink as he smiles crookedly, rubbing his hands together anxiously.

She makes an annoyed, confused noise, and the two men look over at her with round eyes, and Terra bursts into loud, obnoxious laughter before waving her off, a steaming cup of coffee in his hand.

"Go back to sleep, Faolin. Guy talk would bore you," he suggests smoothly, and she manages to flip them both a lazy, half erected bird for waking her up before letting her tired head fall back against the downy pillows, Terra's amused chuckles following her into hazy dreams.

...

"I'm terrified of him. Did you see him last night? He was so…angry," Malik whispers lowly, carefully avoiding raising his accented voice so that Faolin doesn't wake, and Terra nods in silent agreement, absently running a finger down the scar across his eye in thought before he shrugs.

"I've never had to deal with parents, really. Mine are dead, and Faolin's were dead, so they could never confront me about stealing their girl."

He smirks, and casts his gaze up to the domed stone ceiling, golden eyes shining.

"Balor didn't like my influence on Nuala, but I didn't even care. I mean," He spreads his arms wide and points to himself in disbelief, shaking his head, "what influence could I _possibly_ have?"

He snorts before finishing off his coffee by chugging the hot liquid down, receiver of Malik's wide gaze, before slamming the cup down on the table. Immediately, he flinches in panic, and gives a slow glance toward the bed, where a slumbering Faolin is tucked away beneath the covers, and at no sign of movement, he sighs, relieved, before jerking his thumb in her direction.

"If you ask me, _she _was the influence, but that doesn't matter. What matters now is how we're going to get you and Sierra to meet up without Red knowing."

He puts his chin in his hands and thinks for a long, hard while, and Malik follows suit, pretending like his mind is churning out great ideas. It's not until minutes later that Terra snaps his fingers, and gives his nephew a growing smile, the pale, loose skin of his scar crinkling with the gesture, and Malik has never seen a look so devious on anyone's face in all of his life.

...

_Terra doesn't comfort people, and doesn't exactly know how, but he wants to-severely._

_ He wants to take this girl and wrap her in his arms and rock her until the sun comes up, wipe all of her tears away as she sobs into her knees, curled up like a fallen angel in the darkest, loneliest corner of the library. Her pale hair flows down her back, and her small arms shake as she nearly hyperventilates, and Terra-being so immensely naïve at the mere age of nine-rushes to her, falling on his knees to imitate her position, and she lifts her head, the waning, sorrowful light in her golden eyes turning bright with rage, and she shoves him away. _

_"Don't mock me," she hisses, and he stares, dumbfounded, before crawling on his hands and knees over to her, his shoulder length hair swaying with every movement as she looks on in confusion. _

_"I'm not-I would never," replies Terra, his voice so careful and light around this fragile girl, and she tilts her head in curiosity. _

_"I just want you to stop crying, that's all." _

_Her mouth twists up, and she narrows her golden eyes at him, such light framed by that small face, and he smiles cautiously, nervously stretching out his hand in greeting as she wipes the back of her hand across one pale cheek to dry the tears from her skin. She hesitantly takes his hand and shakes it with all the strength of a grown man, and he grimaces as he retracts his grip, laughing shakily. _

_"Strong grip,…?" Terra observes questioningly, and she nods, crossing her arms as she relaxes her curled up knees._

_ "Faolin," the child murmurs proudly, and the name sends a tingle through him as he swallows. _

_"I'm Terra," he says warmly, and she raises a brow. _

_"Your grip is weak, Terra. Maybe you should work on that." _

_And his smile, so surprised and intrigued and lively, is nothing compared to her teasing smirk, the shine of her soul caught within two amber irises staring directly into his, like two halves of a long since separated soul finally reuniting after thousands of years apart. _

**Please R&R! Feedback of any kind is always appreciated! ;)**


	14. Chapter 14

After a rushed trip to the market, and several lingering stares from near passerby, Abe and Nuala finally sit down at the kitchen table, and the queen smiles politely as an elf walks in, only to see the couple and bow in respect before quickly turning on his heel to walk out the way he came, a small smile gracing his features. Abe blinks at the swinging door, and turns to his wife in question.

"Why do they all do that?"

Distracted by the breakfast on her plate, Nuala looks up from her chewing, a mouthful of bacon blocking her smile, and shrugs halfheartedly. The gesture screams Liz, and he finds himself smiling at the thought-the small movement such a big representation of how much Nuala's changed.

_I suppose they want to give us privacy_, she murmurs in his head, and he absently replies with his thoughts, so accustomed to speaking through his mind rather than his mouth.

_They act like they're scared to interrupt us._

She swallows down her food hungrily and nods in observatory agreement, her golden eyes shining in the glow of the hanging lights overhead.

"Perhaps they…want to give us space," she offers quietly, her lips pressed together in thought as she pushes her scrambled eggs around with the tines of her fork, the metal scratching across the white porcelain plate.

"For what?" Long into her suspended silence, as if she's simply opted to ignore his question, Nuala slowly folds her hands into her lap and gives him a pointed gaze, a slight reddish tint blooming beneath the scars grazing her cheekbones, and he understands her better than he's ever understood himself, the shock of such a strong link still new to them both, and he swallows nervously, looking down at his food.

_Of course_, he thinks awkwardly, and the sudden and unbidden idea of the people of Bethmora giving them space for _procreation_ still hovers fresh in his head, and Nuala clears her throat with a tiny smile, sending him quick glances from across the small table in between bites of bacon and eggs. The court would want an heir, naturally, but the image still makes him feel all sorts of uncomfortable, and then he realizes that Nuala must want it, too.

For a queen to be without an heir, or a woman to be without a child, would, in her eyes, be such an awful thing, and he catches a glimpse of a hazy memory, one gleamed from the elf's moments with Liz and her pregnancy, the way she'd look down lovingly at her stomach-as if she had x-ray vision. The sensation of longing that accompanies it is no doubt a projection of Nuala's own perceptions of the moment he's reliving with her, and he swallows down the last of his breakfast before reaching out to take her hand, squeezing her slender fingers gently.

Abe knows with more clarity than ever before that he wants a child, knows it because the shine in his wife's eyes is all too bright to ever be dampened with the absence of one, and allows himself the small moment to imagine what a child-_her, his, their child_-would look like, with her golden eyes and her hair and her gentle smile. The idea that the child would inherit anything of his immediately darkens his thoughts, and he struggles to shield it from Nuala's detection, but he's too slow.

Her presence, always lingering in the back of his head like a group of eternal shadows, flares up with surprise, and he meets her wide eyes with reluctance, an apology already forming on his lips.

An apology for _what, _exactly?

The fact that he doesn't want his child to look like him? The fact that he doesn't want to ruin a child's life?

Her touch upon his hand stills, and the heartrending look that falls upon her face brings him to standing, as he quickly hurries over to her to wrap his arms around her small shoulders, the burning warmth of her skin felt even beneath the thick cloth of her blue dress.

"I'm sorry," he whispers soothingly, and she turns in his arms to stare up at him with a frown, shaking her head in confusion.

"Why would you _ever_ think that?" Nuala questions in disbelief, and the accent in her voice, coupled with her trembling tone, makes the words nearly die out on her tongue, and there are tears pooling at the bottoms of her eyes. He sighs, and a surging feeling of hopelessness rises up within him, as if he's plummeting into darkness, her tears putting him in the worst of places as he strains to find a response.

"It's just-any child that would bear my features, they'd have a hard life. I've been fortunate, really," He gestures to himself wildly, his one goal being to dry the wetness dripping down her face, "I've been cooped up in a secret agency all my life, and I haven't had to deal with as many people as I could have. But any other, I mean, they'd have to venture out, wouldn't they? And if they looked like me-"

Lightning fast, Nuala reaches out to wrap her fingers around his wrist, stopping his arm in midair as he points to himself, and she stands, pushing her chair away to meet his eyes.

"Any child that looked like you would be a _blessing_, _not_ a curse." The conviction lurking beneath her words shakes him, and he takes her other hand, glancing down at the differences between them, seeing as if for the first time what stands between them.

Her golden nails, so light and shining, and the pale hue of her skin, so completely in contrast with the white webbing between his fingers, the tiny suction pads on the underside of his hand, his cream colored nails and the thick flesh surrounding each digit. He dares not let his eyes wander further, and frowns sadly as he blinks, catching her gaze with meaning. She unlocks their hold and brings her palm up to cup his cheek, her skin brushing against the small section of his gills beneath his cheekbone, and she runs a thumb down his face tenderly, noticing how his dark eyes shine with the gleam of unshed tears.

"I'm not even sure we can _have_ children, Nuala," he whispers hoarsely, and at her name, his voice sounding so weak and vulnerable and desolate, she closes her eyes, droplets of water falling from the corners, and he notices how the trail follows the glossy pink scar etched into her cheek, tears sliding down inside the groove it makes on her skin.

Their one similarity, _their_ scar.

She takes her arms and wraps them around his lean shoulders and pulls him into her, hugging him with all of her strength, crying into the crook of his neck, and he breathes her in, her tears dripping onto his gills as he hugs her close, his face pressed into her hair. The silken feel of her dress sleeves takes over his skin, and he bunches up the cloth of her dress in his fist, shoulders shaking as he tries to stop himself from crying.

He can feel how sad she is, and how her sobs echo and turn into _his_ sobs, and the fact that he's caused this, that _he's_ made her cry, hurts him more than the pinch of her nails as she digs them into his skin, unconsciously trying to bring him closer to her. Through his muddled thoughts, he hears her soft murmurs, and she sounds so horribly confident, so entirely sure, despite her shuddering body, and he tightens his hold on her.

_It'll be alright; it has to be. _

_..._

Liz runs her fingertips over the skin of her bare belly and smiles, ignoring the swollen look of it as her fifth month begins. It's hard to completely overlook the way her skin stretches, but she manages, and imagines that she can see her child-a girl, Abe says.

She acts as if she sees her curled within the womb, sleeping peacefully, her heartbeat so very steady and pulsing like the soft, lilting notes of a lullaby, humming and thriving and wholly _alive_. Red sleeps beside the brunette, tangled in the sheets as he tosses and turns, and when he does, the action rocks the bed, and she laughs at him as his tail lazily curls around her upper thigh, a protective habit he's adopted of late. In the darkness of their room, she smiles warmly, and snuggles deeper beneath the covers as she clicks off her flashlight to set it on the nightstand beside her.

It's become a nightly ritual, to turn on the flashlight and glance down at her stomach, and she turns her head to glance at her husband. By the faint moonlight slipping through the open window, his red skin glows, a small sliver of contrast to the darkness around them, and she reaches out to brush her finger down his cheek, smiling as the obsidian cross glints in the shadows. She casts her gaze down to where her baby is cradled, and her almond eyes shine with the brightest light.

"This is your home," she whispers quietly, and she imagines that the small flutter of movement she feels is her daughter's welcome response.

...

_Liz is solemn, for a kid. Red watches her because the Professor thinks she's the type that should be watched, and also thinks that they have a "bond"-whatever that means. All he knows is that he recognizes the lost gleam in her brown eyes as she stares up at him in distrust, and he crosses his arms to make the silence less awkward. He eagerly awaits the moment he can be let off babysitting duty, and longs to go talk to Abe, to see how he's adjusting to his new life at the B.P.R.D._

_ After two years, it still takes some getting used to, and Abe is still as lost as he was when Red saved him from dissection. _

_"I don't need a babysitter," Liz hisses unexpectedly, and he glances at her, surprised at the emotion in her voice. He'd always thought the eleven year old girl was dispassionate, her face always so impassive and drained of all life, but her eyes light up with fire as she gazes over at him defiantly, and Red finds himself smiling._

_ "You've got moxy, I'll give you that, kid," he says laughingly, and she huffs at him, crossing her own arms, her near black hair glinting in the light as the cross choker hanging loosely around her neck-obviously too big for her-jangles against her skin. _

_"My name's not 'kid', you know." _

_And Red thinks, for just a fraction of a second, that this girl isn't at all what she seems, and his amber eyes shine just as much as his smile does, finally, finally, finding a kindred spirit in the prison that they can never leave. _

_..._

Faolin walks into the library-a place she rarely ever steps foot in-to find Nuala, curled up on one of the many small sofas with a book in her lap, the lights at the ceiling casting her features in an eerie glow. The elf stops, and looks around for Abe, and when she realizes that the queen is alone, she walks over cautiously, positioning herself on the arm of the couch as she looks warily down at her friend, pushing a stray strand of hair behind her pointed ear. Nuala glances up, and there are traces of tears on her face, and she closes her book to set it down carelessly on a nearby table.

"What happened?" Faolin asks worriedly, and the other elf shakes her head wordlessly, starting to cry. Instantly, Faolin pulls her into her arms, shushing her gently and carding her long fingers through her pale hair, and a memory comes to the forefront of her mind.

_Cautiously, Nuala pulls off the bandages, and winces as they tug on the still tender skin beneath, and Faolin holds her breath. The young princess is haggard, her skin a sickly pale, and Nuada must look no better. _

_But no one knows, for the prince is gone and the kingdom is in disarray, rumors of relocation slithering through the city. _

_Having already brushed off the healers' many protests, Nuala finally manages to take off the first bandage, tightly secured about her waist, and as she unwraps it, she glances up at the mirror to see Faolin's wide, shocked eyes. Nuala ignores the sight, and continues to undo every single bandage, and moves up to slowly unmask the fresh skin of her face. _

_Faolin feels her heart pounding, and doesn't know whether to embrace her friend or sob for her, and the sound that escapes the princess is not at all familiar, a foreign croak that shakes her to the core, and she collapses, her knees buckling, tears relentlessly pouring from her eyes as she rocks herself back and forth, arms wrapped tightly around her middle as she wails. _

_Her skin is covered with shiny pink lines of flesh, her body jagged to the touch at some places, and her face looks so overpoweringly sorrowful that Faolin has no choice but to collapse upon the floor with her. _

Nuala's sobs shake Faolin's body, and she holds the elf closer, murmuring soothing words into her ear as Nuala attempt to talk in between her gasping breaths.

"What if we can't have children?" Faolin doesn't know what to say, and winces as the invading thoughts spread though her mind-still unaccustomed to the telepathic presence after so many years of having it accidentally slip, uncontrolled, into her mind.

_He wants children, I can tell._ _What if I can't give that to him? What if he blames himself for it? What if-_

Faolin blocks her out, a skill learned over thousands of years, and pulls Nuala away just far enough to look her in the eyes, her face serious and sincere.

"You're going to have a family, you hear me?" Nuala swallows her next sob and hiccups, lips trembling.

"The two of you are going to have a big, wonderful family, and you're going to live out your lives together and die a really, really long time from now when you're both old and withered. Understand?"

Nuala stares blankly, and her shoulders droop.

"Abraham doesn't age," she deadpans, and Faolin cracks a warm smile before wiping the tears from her face with the side of her hand. She fixes Nuala's mussed hair, and brings her into a tight hug, her small chin resting on the princess' shoulder.

"Everything's going to be fine, you just wait and see."

...

When Abe, after aimlessly wandering the city for a solid three hours, finally returns to Nuala's chambers, he closes the door with a heavy sigh-and equally heavy heart-and turns around to make his way to the pool, but stops dead, his back to the door.

Nuala sits upon the covers of their bed with a small smile on her face, and his mouth hangs open of its own accord, because Nuala-his dear, polite, reserved Nuala-is completely covered in lingerie, or maybe not so very much covered. His pulse immediately quickens, and his gills flap faster, and she blushes at his reaction as the blue lace snaking around her waist-leaving nothing whatsoever to the imagination as it trails up and down her scantily clad body-catches his eye.

She tilts her head, and pats the bed beside her, the familiar upturn of the corners of her lips turning into a flirtatious grin that sends his blood rushing, his breath caught in his throat.

"I've decided that it doesn't matter, either way. If we're able to have children, then that's wonderful-but if we aren't, my heart won't be broken, so long as I have you," she murmurs softly, and he's never agreed with anything more than in that moment.

She glances down at herself, then back up to him, and her eyes flash with mockery as she purses her lips teasingly.

"Won't you sit with me?" And all Abe can feel is the press of her lips against his, absent one moment and there in the next.

**Please R&R! Feedback of any kind is always appreciated! ;)**


	15. Chapter 15

"That sounds good," Liz murmurs into the cellphone wedged between her ear and shoulder as she pulls a tray of burnt cookies out of the oven, waving her hand in front of her to ward off the unwanted smoke as she stops herself from coughing, "and you're sure they're ok with it?"

The fire alarm suddenly blares behind her, and she turns to send it a withering stare as she strains to hear the voice on the other end, nodding.

"Yeah, we'll be there," she reassures loudly, and Red walks into the kitchen with annoyance shining in his amber eyes, glaring up at the alarm in frustration as he contemplates smashing it to pieces with his stone hand, and she ends the call just as she sets the tray down on the counter, frowning with distaste at the crisp dessert. She throws up her hands in defeat with a heavy, tired sigh.

"I give up. Abe and Nuala are the only people in this house that can cook _anything_. I can't even make a damn piece of toast right." Red reaches up and rips off the cover of the fire alarm, and plucks a colored wire just before all the blaring beeps cut off, silence immediately falling over the house. He tosses it into the trash and she stares at him, brow furrowed.

"Why would you do that? Now we have to buy another one-that's the _sixth _one this year, Red!"

He throws up his hands and scoops up a cookie from the hot tray, and noisily munches on it as he plops down in a chair by the table, smirking teasingly as Liz watches him. She huffs in indignation and walks out of the room, muttering to herself about hormones , and he can faintly hear the soft hum of the television through the kitchen door as she sits on the couch to watch her favorite show.

"Oh, and we're going to Bethmora for dinner tomorrow!" Liz yells from the living room, and he gives the wall a confused stare, shaking his head.

"But they're on their honeymoon."

"Terra invited us, said it was fine," she assures him, and he stands to get another cookie from the counter, knowing well that she can hear him eating them all the way in the other room.

...

"It's not so much that I'm a king now, right? Because I don't want to be their king, really," Abe murmurs quietly, lying comfortably against Nuala as they recline against the soft sheets, the air still warm and electric as he absently twirls a pale lock of her hair around his fingers. She looks up from where her chin rests atop his shoulder and smiles sweetly, shaking her head in amusement.

"You don't have to _be_ anything, really. You can just stay my husband, or someone who they all see from time to time, or someone they must be respectful to-but you won't have any true standing, if you wish it." He nods in eager agreement as she snuggles her face into his chest, and he feels himself smiling, still unaccustomed to the odd sensation after three years of enduring it.

"I would never want to run a kingdom," he reflects reservedly, and the admiring implication of his tone nearly makes her blush, but she nods halfheartedly, hoping he can feel her movement against his skin.

"It _is_ hard, but I have Faolin to help me now. She's handled it all quite wonderfully."

...

"I don't want it! Go ask someone else, or maybe just go fuc-" Terra's hand shoots out to splay over Faolin's mouth just as she's fuming at a troll merchant and giving him the death glare, her pale face beet red with fury and annoyance as he tugs her away before she does anyone bodily harm.

"This is bullshit! That troll was trying to screw us over with his _advanced_ technology. We could just as easily go anywhere and get a toaster!"

The elves around them watch the couple with equal parts hesitance and curiosity, and their naivety yet again finds a way to drive Faolin over the edge, and she rambles on in a language they don't know, English sounding so foreign to the Gaelic mind.

"Why would I buy a _toaster_?! Does he think I'm stupid? Does he think I live in a cave?" She throws up her hands with rage and starts to stomp off, but her husband reluctantly twirls her around by the arm, giving everyone sideways glances as they slowly depart in disappointment.

"I may have, um…"

She stares at him, panting and expectant, and bobs her head, signaling that he should go on, her golden eyes hazy with lingering anger.

"We might need to fix some more food for tomorrow," he murmurs beneath his breath, and she narrows her eyes at him before digging a finger into his chest a little too harshly.

"And what exactly are you planning?" Faolin asks tersely, hand planted on her hip. He shrugs carelessly and tries his best to act casual.

"I invited Red and company over for dinner, no big deal. We just need a little more food, that's all."

And he walks off quickly, high-tailing it to Malik's room to make a plan, and she watches him leave with suspicion shining bright in her large irises.

...

"So, all you have to do is slip away with Sierra, and sneak in a few minutes of solitude," Terra whispers in the confines of his nephew's roomy chambers, raising a brow at the boy's expression before pointing a finger at him sternly, "and _no funny business_, and sneak back to the table, and you'll both be fine. Maybe we can do that every week, and then you'll practically be dating."

He nods to himself and Malik laughs, sharp teeth glowing in the shadows. He fidgets nervously with his long fingered hands, and sighs shakily, eyes flitting from one corner of the room to the other, as if anticipating something.

"My father's going to _kill_ me, Uncle Terra," he explains fearfully, and Terra makes sure he's looking him dead in the eyes when he says:

"Do you like Sierra?"

"Of course I do," Malik murmurs surely, his voice steely with confidence, and Terra gives him a wide smile.

"Then your death isn't the worst thing that could happen. Besides, I won't let my brother give you a hard time. That's what I'm here for, right?"

He doesn't miss the glint of gratitude glowing in his nephew's smile.

**Please R&R! Feedback of any kind is always appreciated! ;)**


	16. Chapter 16

_He wakes, brightness pouring into his vision and skin and mind, his insides burning as he blinks, a slight coolness touching against him. It takes a moment- and a small whisper in the back of his head says that it's water he's in, and that the hazy glow assaulting him is light, and that the forms in front of him are people, wide eyed and hesitant as they move a little closer to him-to become alert. _

_A clear barrier surrounds him, and with it comes the oddest sensation as he places his fingertips to the hard surface, that same voice murmuring in his ear. _

Glass.

_Suddenly, a medley of sounds and sights and sensations overtakes him, flooding his palm and invading his head, and he can't think, can't even hear that voice anymore, can only float in the water as they all look to him, unblinking and shocked as distant noises echo in his mind-_laughter_-and a pair of brown eyes smiling over at him as a woman turns to him-_her_-and his thoughts don't make sense, something akin to memories flaring and fading from his attention before he can grasp them, and he sinks to the bottom of whatever prison he's in to rest against the glass, his vision swimming out of focus until all he sees is darkness. _

_..._

Nuala pours all of her focus into fixing deviled eggs, and smiles to herself when Abe, beside her, thinks of a song-playing it in his head so that she can hear the tune in his thoughts along with him. He sometimes hums to himself as he stirs the softened yolk, and she can't help but have the immediate urge to hum as well, his desires her own and her desires imparted upon him. It's such an odd thing, to be so connected to another person again, and an even more unfamiliar thing to be linked to a person so different from the one she's known all of her life.

Faolin comes in, suddenly and loudly, announcing her presence with the slamming of the swinging kitchen door and her jarring footsteps, and Nuala turns, her attention veering for a split second, and winces as she cuts the side of her finger with the knife, golden tinted blood blooming from the small wound. Abe makes a soft, surprised noise in the back of his throat, but Faolin ignores it, and the ghost of pain-as if some kind of out of body experience-slithers into Nuala's thoughts. She looks to Abe, questioning, and notices that he holds his finger, putting pressure on the wound at its tip, blue blood pooling on the marble countertop.

_I bleed easily_. The rest of his thoughts are lost to Faolin's disgruntled shouts, and she approaches her friends, anger lit within her gaze.

"I just got really pissed off by a stupid troll, and I think Terra is up to something, and he's hiding it from me. Since it's not anyone's birthday, it can't be a good kind of secret." She kicks a chair, enough to send it skidding for a good foot, and proceeds to hastily plop down in its seat, sighing.

"All in all, this is turning out to be a pretty bad day."

Nuala's lips part, her thoughts still recovering from the startling sensation of Abe's wound in her mind, and she blinks slowly, a habit that belongs entirely to her husband, and decides to go over to comfort her friend.

"I'm sure that Terra isn't scheming anything, Faolin," she murmurs soothingly, ignoring the stab of pain still lingering in her finger-coupled with Abe's pain-and trying to focus. "Perhaps you should rest, take the day off. I'm here, after all."

Faolin shakes her head dismissively, but her eyes widen, as if remembering something very suddenly, and she points to the queen, mouth twisted up.

"And Terra invited Red and everybody over for dinner tomorrow. Isn't that great?" The sarcasm practically drips from her mouth, and Nuala gives her a stern look before ushering her out the door, murmurs of needing sleep and relaxing echoing in both of their heads. She turns to Abe, who leans against the counter, ignoring the small puddle of blood marring its shining surface, and sighs.

"I guess we have to cook a bit more than planned, hm?" Abe asks tiredly, and she furrows her brow.

"We could just have the cook prepare-"

"I like cooking. You like cooking. Why not give the kitchen staff a day off?" Nuala smiles at the interruption and bobs her head in agreement, her golden eyes bright in the dim lighting as she goes over to check on his finger. She runs her finger over the cut with guilty eyes, and glances up at him forlornly.

"I'm sorry. I should have been more careful," she offers sadly, and he takes his uninjured hand to grasp her finger, gazing down at the identical wound marring it.

"No damage done. We might need a Band Aid, but that's about it," he says laughingly, and her pulse quickens at the smile he sends her way, bringing her hand up to press his lips to her cut, and she can think of no better remedy for the pain.

...

_After shooing Faolin off, and holing herself up in her chambers, Nuala boldly turns to her vanity mirror and pretends not to notice the lines on her face, but she ends up giving in to the temptation to press her fingers to the delicate patterns at the corners of her forehead, a dim memory coming to the surface of her mind at the contact. She shoves it down and touches the new scars on her cheeks, imagining her brother on the battlefield as he received them, crimson slashes covering his body-just as they had covered hers. Now, all that remains are faded lines of pale color, jagged bumps that haunt the places where such immense pain once belonged. _

_It doesn't take long to fall into despair, and the knowledge that Nuada-her dear, beloved Nuada-is gone, vanished from her reach as if she meant nothing, exiled by his own choice to places unknown and soon to be forgotten, hurts her all over again. All that he left were memories, a barely alive link, and a body of ruined skin and phantom agony. She can feel the tears burning her eyes at the realization-the notion that she _is_ ruined, broken beyond repair, a burden to anyone who would ever wish to court her. _

_If anyone _did_ want to court her-she finds it unlikely._

_ Faolin returns without knocking, a custom she adopted after realizing she had awful, unchangeable manners, and stops in the doorway at the sight of her friend, curled up atop the small chair before the vanity, hands pressed to the marks across her face, tears strolling down her cheeks. She rushes over, closing the door behind her, to wrap her arms around the young princess, and Nuala immediately dries her tears to turn to the other elf, sniffling. "_

_What is it?" Nuala asks a little too harshly, and Faolin sighs. _

_"I just-I wanted to tell you that I'm leaving. But…are you alright?" Nuala blinks, startled, and takes a trembling breath._

_ "You're...leaving? I know-we're all leaving, for the city." She tilts her head cautiously and the still shiny skin of her fresh scars glints in the candlelight, and Faolin tries her best not to stare, captivated by this new change, and she sighs, as if burdened. _

_"No. Terra and I are leaving. When the other elves relocate, we're going to live on our own, with the humans." The look of betrayal is swiftly smothered by all of the princess' years of practice at hiding her emotions, and she stifles her cries, turning to glance at her one friend in the light of the mirror. _

_"So you, too, are leaving me-just like Nuada." _

_"No! Not like Nuada." Faolin moves to grasp her shoulder, turning the girl around to look her in the eyes. _

_"We are _not_ abandoning you, Nuala. You _must_ know that. We just need our freedom, and we'll visit. We will." Nuala glances up, lips trembling as she loses her self-control for a moment. _

_"Do you promise?" Her voice, then, sounds innocent, as if they were all ignorant children running in fields of green, basking in the light overhead that was brighter than the glow of any candle, holding tightly to each other's hands as they laughed carelessly. She seems so immensely young in that moment, and her face betrays all of the heartache she tries to quell, the wisdom and pain in her eyes seeming eons older than she really is. Faolin swallows, and hopes that the telepath can't read her like an open book, her heart pounding in her chest as she thinks of all that Nuada has taken from this lonely, once lively girl. _

_"I promise." _

_..._

The next day finds Red waking at noon, and he rolls over in bed to glare at the bright crimson numbers on the clock screen, frowning as he tries to nestle back into the sheets to catch another minute of sleep, but Liz throws a pillow at his face and he shoves it away lazily, mumbling incoherent protests as she tugs him to his feet, already dressed and ready.

"I think you should get moving," she says slowly, trying to give him time to fully wake and hear what she's saying. He shakes his head groggily.

"It's only noon!" Red groans in protest, but she ushers him to the bathroom, and he gives her a lasting look as she shuts the door, smiling teasingly. He shrugs, and makes sure to take all the time in the world to dress and get ready, because he doesn't want to have to deal with pulling the twins out of their day long naps, and he snickers deviously to himself, amber eyes shining with mirth.

...

Surprisingly, Sierra is already up and waiting when Liz reaches her room, and she smiles excitedly as she walks past her mother and down the stairs, tail swishing happily behind her as Liz sends her retreating back a confused stare.

Trevor is a different story, snoring into his pillow with his legs tangled within his cocoon of blankets, arm hanging off the side of the bed. He's a picture of comfort, but Liz has no problem with pulling back the curtains to let the harshly bright sunlight cascade over the room, and he yells, startled awake by both the noise and the blinding sun, nearly falling off his bed in the process.

"Up," she says cheerily, and pretends not to notice the seething look he gives her, walking out of his room with laughter bubbling up in her throat.

A few hours later, an a disgruntled Red and son are sitting at the table, arms crossed as Sierra chugs down a glass of milk, standing near the sink so that she can quickly get rid of the cup and be on her way out the door-and Liz is becoming increasingly suspicious at her daughter's enthusiasm.

"I don't see why we can't eat breakfast," Trevor mutters angrily, and Liz throws him a glare before looking pointedly to the clock, which reads exactly 3:30 p.m.

"_Because_ if you eat breakfast-and it's not even morning guys-then you won't want to eat dinner, and that would just be rude," she explains, her hand absently falling to run over her belly, and Red sighs dramatically as he pulls himself to standing, gesturing to the door.

"Are we going or what?"

...

It would have been a speedy trip to Bethmora, had Liz not been unable to hold in her urine, complaining for a good five minutes until Red had hastily pulled into a nearby parking lot-one belonging to some rundown restaurant-and letting her do he business.

Liz, while leaving the place, had murmured to Red about the stares she was getting, and a man, alone and bundled up in his jacket-despite the scorching weather-had given her a hard stare, watching her climb into the Jeep with dark eyes, a pale, jagged scar lining his jawbone.

She'd been creeped out for a good while after that, oddly nervous and jumpy. Halfway through the trip, the car ran out of gas, and Red had slammed his hand down on the steering wheel, cursing. Around an hour later, after a near endless search for a gas station, it was almost five o'clock, and the family was already overly hungry, so when the elves eagerly welcomed them into the underground city-everyone already accustomed to the stone guardian at its entrance-they were all too ready to eat.

...

Abe, smiling at his friends, welcomes them cheerily, and he laughs at Red's jokes about the other creatures around them, completely and secretly baffled by how much he'd missed them all-even after just a few days. Nuala, clasping her hands together excitedly, thinks to make a toast, and Faolin, at her side, chimes in, thanking them for the food. It's not long until Terra, at one end of the table beside Malik-who sits shyly across from Sierra-are already almost done with their food, and Faolin laughs at them, talking about how fat they'll be when they're older, and Terra, while shoveling another helping of some elven food Abe had been unable to pronounce the name of, flips her off as he chews, smiling in between his large bites of food as he states that, statistically, women are the first to gain weight.

She guffaws, and asks where he heard his so called "facts", but he ignores her. Red and Liz talk animatedly to Abe and Nuala, and Trevor looks around him, wondering if he should talk to Malik-the only teenager at the table, besides his sister. He frowns in thought, failing to notice the way Sierra jerks her thumb discreetly behind her, and Terra distracts everyone long enough for her and Malik to slip away, completely undetected, smiling as they both leave.

The table they sit at is too big for the kitchen-Liz makes a comment about how Balor must have expected dozens of guests at dinner every night-and so it sits just outside of the kitchen, plainly in view of any elves who happen to stumble by the large, cavernous space between two rounding tunnels-one leading to chambers and the other leading to a sort of commons area, where most elves like to spend their days.

Nuala finds herself speaking of days when her father reigned, and Abe squeezes her hand under the table, all too aware of the nostalgia that sweeps over them both, a band aid on both of their fingers. Nuala tries to distract herself and makes a comment on how well the baby's progress is going, and this starts Liz on a series of questions for both of the people who can see every moment of her pregnancy, smiling at them like she's known them all of her life.

...

"My dad's going to kill us when he finds out," Sierra murmurs softly, wedged between the corner of a hallway and Malik's body as he tries not to lean to close to her.

"Terra said he wouldn't let anything bad happen," he replies, whispering, his accent something she can't ever recognize. It sounds like some mix between heavy British and light Australian, and that train of thought makes her wonder how Terra and Faolin could ever have rid themselves of their accents.

"Besides, what harm can this do? Talking in the hallway?" Malik shivers mockingly, and sends her a wry smile. "_Scandalous." _

She laughs, and slaps a red hand over her mouth to quiet herself, the shine of her eyes reflected in his own.

"They're going to find out sooner or later, you know," she reminds the elf, and he gazes at her admirably, sighing.

"Find out that I'm completely enthralled by you?" His statement makes her skin darken a shade, and her tail absently wraps around his calf, her eyes going wide as she realizes this and struggles to hastily pull it away. He wraps his long fingers around her petite wrist and smiles, gently tugging her hand away from her fight with her own appendage, and laughs quietly in the silence.

"It's alright, tails don't scare me." Sierra can't hide her grin, or the complete bafflement sparkling within it, and his grip on her wrist softens as he smiles down at her, his heart pounding.

...

"And we're out of drinks," Nuala observes dryly, frowning in disappointment and puzzlement as she turns to Abe.

"I could have sworn we had some this morning." He nods and blinks at the empty shelves of the refrigerator, which isn't really a refrigerator so much as something one of the goblins managed to invent, a cooling system that doesn't require electricity-but Abe's not entirely sure it doesn't involve magic, even though Nuala's said that the practice is forbidden in Bethmora. Liz frowns, her throat parched, and puts a hand on her hip, an idea coming to her.

"We could just go get some. It'll only take like half an hour, maybe a little more, depending on how the grocery lines are." Nuala glances at her and smiles brightly, nodding as she moves over next to Liz, silently announcing that she'll accompany the woman to the store. Red laughs and throws his wife the keys, murmuring warnings to her.

"Be careful."

"I will."

"Don't go off into an alley or anything."

"Why would I?"

"Don't talk to strangers." His statements get increasingly more teasing, and she sends him a look over her shoulder as Nuala puts on her cloak. Abe, still faintly in awe at how his wife can wear such heavy clothing in such weather, leans over to plant a kiss on her cheek when no one is watching, and she smiles lovingly over at him as he retreats back with Red and his family. Nuala notices how Sierra and Malik appear out of nowhere, and her gaze flits over to Terra, questioning. His silly, slightly guilty grin tells her all she needs to know, and she rolls her eyes at him.

_Truly, though,_ Abe murmurs in her thoughts, _be careful. _She nods and smiles at him as they walk away. _I will._

_..._

"I'm so glad we can have some girl time, you know?" Liz asks seriously, and smiles as she drives down the road, half of her attention on the pavement and the other half spent on coaxing the elf beside her into some sort of conversation.

"It _is _welcome," Nuala observes quietly, and she smiles at the brunette, sensing the child stirring lazily within the woman's womb.

"The baby will be fine, Liz." Her mind, always open, can sense Liz's concerns, and she's been able to feel the worry radiating off of her friend ever since she entered Bethmora. Liz glances to her gratefully and sighs, sparing a look down at her stomach.

"I know. I just-I can't help it, you know?" Nuala frowns, and turns to look out the window as she shakes her head, mesmerized by the blurring images of trees and fields and sky flying past.

"No, not really. All that I know of the subject comes from the minds of others, but I hope that will change." Liz smiles, and reaches over to place her hand over Nuala's as they come to an intersection. The elf looks to her, looking so frail in the sunlight.

"It will change, know that. Soon, you and Abe will have a family all your own, and our kids can play and have fun together and we can all grow old-"

She stops, laughing to herself.

"Well, you guys probably won't ever grow old, but we will." Nuala laughs along with her as the Jeep rolls to a stop, and Liz wipes the back of her hand across her forehead, grimacing as she attempts to fan herself.

"It's sweltering out here, and being pregnant just makes everything hotter," she complains quietly, and Nuala tilts her head, glancing at the vents spewing cool air out as fast as they can, and the chill of it reminds her of Abe, and of how cold his skin is. She smiles, her heartbeat speeding up at the mere thought of him, and she feels so very warm inside, so extremely happy that she's finally found the one she's meant for. The first in the line of cars behind her, Liz taps the steering wheel impatiently, and glares at the red light swaying in the breeze, suspended on wires.

"This is the longest light ever," she says angrily, and Nuala, hearing something, turns her head to look out Liz's window, squinting at the road across from the side of the car.

"It's odd, that the only traffic is in this lane. Usually, this intersection is very busy, or so I've been told," Nuala observes, more to herself than anyone else, and Liz follows her lead, her eyes narrowed as she starts to hear a slight purring sound from far away. It dies down and she shrugs, turning her attention back to the light, just as Nuala does the same. Liz grunts in anger, and rests her head against the headrest of the driver's seat, lips pursed. She turns the music up on the radio, and, distantly, Nuala can hear shouts, and the world is thrown into slow motion.

Abe senses that something's wrong, and stands, trying to focus on Nuala's mind, her thoughts and her presence. Red, concerned, glances up at his friend, frowning. "Abe?"

Faintly, she's aware that she should turn, that she should look to her left to see what all the commotion is about, but she hesitates, and turns too late-too late to move, too late to flee, too late to warn Liz-just as the light turns green and Liz begins to obliviously drive away. The speedometer reads 40 miles per hour when at last the world returns to normal, and Nuala turns to see a car speeding toward them.

Abe takes a breath, and sees what she sees, and he doesn't even have time to say a single word.

The world explodes in a shower of glass and sparks and screeching metal, and the underside of the car is thrown up into the air, the vehicle rolling across the road several times. Nuala's head slams against the dashboard, and she feels as if some sharp knife is ripping its way across her chest, crushing her as her shoulder slams against the window and breaks it, shards of glass digging into her skin. She hears Liz scream but can only see the shower of metal before her, shouts drowned out by the chaos, and the car comes to a harsh stop halfway down the road, skidding and screaming and sparking until there is only silence as they both hand upside down, caught within their seatbelts.

Abe collapses, angry slashes forming across his shoulder, an awful gaping gash ripping across his forehead, his face cut by invisible knives. He screams, and grasps his head in his hands, and Red, running to him, has never heard a sound so awful as the sound of bones crunching, echoing loudly in the silence of the room, pools of blue blood forming on the floor.

Nuala blinks, her vision swimming with bright colors of red and green and yellow, her body screaming in agony, warm, sticky blood trickling down her face and onto the interior roof of the Jeep. She can hear sirens, and holds her breath as she turns her head, just barely able to move at all, afraid that if she breathes her chest will collapse. Liz, hanging with her dark hair falling into her face, is barely conscious, hands grasping at the steering wheel before weakly falling back to rest, limp, in the air, and she murmurs, slow and steady, wailing pitifully.

"The baby."

That becomes Nuala's lullaby, and she thinks to grab at the door handle, to cut herself loose somehow, but both attempts-to open the door and to grab the knife tucked away in her sleeve-prove impossible, golden blood drenching her dress and running down her arms as her muscles give out, her hand falling back of its own accord. She lets her head dangle, too weak to hold it up, and she can feel Abe's presence, haunting the back of her mind.

_Nuala… _

But she can't stay awake long enough to hear his words, lost to the alluring darkness that overtakes her.

**Please R&R! Feedback of any kind is always appreciated! ;)**


	17. Chapter 17

Abe gets angry when he's in pain, Terra notices as they help him, upon his extremely determined insistence, to Faolin's car, parked a good ways from the entrance to Bethmora-and Red isn't too happy about the fact, either. Abe tries desperately to stay on his feet, to keep moving, and every now and then, he'll yell at Red, harshly telling him to quicken his pace. By the time they get to the car, they're all panting and Abe's half collapsed against his best friend, a bright line of blue blood trailing all the way back to the table they were previously seated at, and the whole group is in complete disarray as they hastily cram into the small confines of clutter and mess that is the interior of Faolin's vehicle. She doesn't worry about seatbelts as she slams the door shut and almost breaks the key when she roughly turns it in the ignition, promptly flooring it as a dust cloud starts to form behind them.

Abe clutches his head, and at random moments holds a hand to his sternum as he yells in pain, and every now and then he'll nearly fall unconscious, almost incoherently mumbling his wife's name, and Red keeps him awake as best he can, his mind finding a way to stray to thoughts of Liz and the baby. He can't ask his friend any questions as he hurriedly takes a stack of napkins-kept hidden in the glove box-to press them to the worst of Abe's wounds. There are jagged lines slicing at the top of Abe's shoulder, small, deep puncture wounds decorating his bloodied skin, and Red doesn't want to think about the cause, or about the fact that Nuala is suffering the same. There's a whimpering sound on occasion, and Abe braces himself against the car door as a wave of pain comes over him, wheezing like it's hard for him to breathe as his gills flap sporadically. Terra tries to soothe his wife's shot nerves as she starts to drive recklessly, and he offers a kind word every now and then to remind her that they don't need to have a car accident.

They come to a busy intersection, the traffic made worse by the jam up ahead, and Abe points a shaking finger at the scene, concealed by cars and emergency responders milling about.

"There," he chokes out, and Red gets another stack of napkins after tossing the indigo stained ones into the small trash can in front of the back seat. A split second is filled with worry for Trevor and Sierra, but he reminds himself that they're in Bethmora, Sierra most likely comforted by Malik, and he scowls before applying pressure to an angry slash across Abe's cheek, promising a scar, as the man fishes out a cell phone from his pocket, dialing a familiar number to press it to his ear, the phone already beginning to turn dark with the blood that drips from Abe's fingers as he slumps, almost passing out yet again before becoming alert at the voice on the other end.

"There's been an accident. My wife…and my friend are-Just.._help us,_" he pleads, and hangs up the phone, throwing it on the seat beside Red before shoving the door open, leaning on the car's frame to pull himself up on wobbling legs. He walks out, and Red has to recover from the shock to hurry after the man, weaving in between cars and the blaring sounds of horns and shouts of frustrated drivers.

It's almost like parting the sea, in a way, for when they see Abe, there is only silence, save for the soft and panicked murmurs of the police and paramedics as Abe spots the overturned Jeep, the doors torn off their hinges and splayed upon the glass dotted pavement. Faolin and Terra run after them, and meet up with Abe, who falls against Red limply, breathing hard as he blinks rapidly, trying to remain upright, stumbling across the scene of the crash to gaze sharply into the interior of the car, and a policemen runs up to him, guns already aimed and ready.

Abe looks up, imploring, before his eyes fall on a man, seated at the back of the open ambulance with ice pressed to his head, bandages covering his neck and arms, his face scratched to pieces, a worried paramedic trying to check his health. The scratches on his face don't hide the bright scar running along his jawbone, and he catches Abe's stare with a small smile, the ever so slight curl of his lips as he nods in the man's direction, his green eyes appearing as dark as ebony in the light.

A flare of emotion hits Abe's mind, and he recognizes it as a ghost sensation, something belonging to Liz, the lasting impressions of her fear mingling heavily in the air, brushing up against his palms. The murmurs of the authorities, most now staring at him hostility, with the exception of the medical teams, who gaze at him with a mixture of hesitance and extreme worry for his condition, sounds in Abe's ears. Red runs up to help him stand, and he catches bits of a loud whisper.

_Drunk driver. Sad. Likely miscarriage. Fatal?_

Red pales at the words and looks to Abe for guidance, and Faolin clutches to her husband's hand as the police trap them among the crowd with yellow tape, their faces masks of terror. Liz and Nuala are gone, long vanished into an ambulance, and Abe feels the absence like some tangible thing, and it's not long before he himself, remembering that phantom sensation of Nuala's agony as she'd blacked out, feels the urge to close his eyes, and he manages to turn to his friend, whispering weakly:

"Not a…drunk..driver."

And Abe has only enough time to see the light of realization dawn on Red's horrified face before he falls, his legs giving out entirely as his head connects with the hard road below, and a surge of darkness overtakes all thought.

...

Nuala wakes to the sound of yelling, barking orders that echo in the caverns of her thoughts, and the harshly searing lights overhead greet her, glaring down at her as she moans, the pain slicing through her in an instant, reminding her of all that's happened.

She tries to move, but her body feels heavy, and her dress sticks to her torso, as if wet with some kind of liquid, and the realization comes to her swiftly, what sounds like an argument brewing just behind her as she swallows thickly, nurses and doctors surrounding her with equipment and foreign objects of metal, things she doesn't recognize, things she's only ever seen in Abe's memories of his near dissection. She struggles, but they only hold her down, and the sharpest pain rips through her chest bone as she cries out, begging them to make it stop.

"Damn it! I'm the Chief Medical-"

"I don't care _what_ you are! As long as you're in this vicinity, you won't step foot near either of the patients. They're for us to handle. Now leave, or I'll call security."

The voices are muddled with the hazy sensation lingering in her head, but the man with the gravelly voice is screaming in response, and the heavy pounding of his angry footsteps sounds against the shining floor.

"_You_ _don't care? _What the hell does that mean? You don't give a damn about these people, you'd just as sooner let them die than treat them with an ounce of kindness, and I'm ordering you to stand down!"

The other man ignores him, and there is only cutting silence, before the one trying to argue for Nuala yells after the other.

"Sir! These are my…friends. Let me take care of them! SIR! I am a renowned doctor-I'll be damned if you let them die! You can't just deny them treatment! I'll have your job, you just wait!"

A scuffle ensues, and the nurses around her hurry behind the uncomfortable hospital bed she's been placed in to break up what she assumes is a rather nasty fight, and the pain begins to ebb enough so that she can turn her head slightly, watching as a stocky man in a white lab coat holds a hand to his bloody face while another, taller doctor wipes the crimson coating his hand on his coat and rushes to Nuala while they're all distracted.

His dark hair is cut close to his scalp, like that of a soldier, and he sends her a gentle smile before glancing over her wounds, and she squints past the light to look at the tiny cuts on his face.

"Hello, Your Majesty. My name's John, and I'm Abe's friend," the doctor murmurs distractedly as he takes one of the knives laid out on a nearby table to cut open her dress, sending her a modest, apologetic look as he looks at the worst of her wounds, the main source of her pain splayed across her chest, "and he told me to look after the two of you. Sorry about the dress, and this might-_oh_, this is really going to hurt. Ok?"

Nuala nods shakily, and feels an instant trust of the man, her mind reaching out to feel Abe's impression on his mind, a familiar sensation that stretches for years.

The man touches her shoulder, and pain lances through her, but when he grasps it, she stifles a cry, and when he sets the joint back in place, Nuala can't keep her shouts in any longer, and her outburst echoes through the halls, getting the nurses' attentions as they start to head for the pair. John looks up, and he takes a knife to hold it to them, waving it in the air.

"Get this woman to the operating room, and wait for me there. I'm going to go check on the other patient-my brother should be taking her under about now. And if you try anything," He glances around warily, a spark of defensive anger in his blue eyes, "I _will_ cut you."

Nuala, between the residing of pain in her shoulder and the flaring of it in her chest, decides that she likes John, but the next thought is lost as they bring some odd tubing to her face, and they tell her to count. She doesn't have time to worry about numbers, because everything disappears in the next instant.

...

All that Abe remembers is john's face, standing over him and talking animatedly about how simple the operation will be, murmuring soothingly to Red about Liz's own surgery. He makes sure to tell him that it's essential that Abe and Nuala both have the same operation at exactly the same time, or else infection could set in from the odd connection they have, surgical incisions appearing at inopportune times.

For that reason, they're in the same room, and Nuala is already out cold, her vitals displayed on the bright screen just behind Abe's head, just as his own are, and John glances betweem them as he gently tries to comfort Abe's increasing anxiety, the anesthesia already being brought down on his face. Abe spares Nuala a worried glance, and feels her slumbering mind with concern, noting her battered body and scratched up face.

"It'll be fine, Abe," John murmurs behind his face mask, slipping on his gloves, nurses and surgical technicians surrounding him as his eyes smile down at his friend. Abe nods, and takes a deep breath, relaxing.

_And Liz is alright?_

He sends John a telepathic message, and the doctor, always with difficulty, strains to think a single, clear idea, so that Abe only gets one message.

_She's…alright. The removal went fine, and she's stable. I just…that kind of thing can damage a person more than you'd think._

Abe falls into darkness.

**Please R&R! Feedback of any kind is always appreciated! ;)**


	18. Chapter 18

Liz wakes to the lazy beeping of the monitor above her, and feels warmth across the flesh of her palm, and stirs, shifting in her hospital gown beneath the thin sheets to slowly turn her head. At first, all she sees is a white blur with a large dot of red, and everything's so jumbled and distorted that she second guesses even the colors, the drugs still being pumped in her system from the surgery.

She can't recall a thing, really, just the faint echo of a doctor's voice, a soft murmur of comfort, and a gentle squeeze on her fingers. She can barely remember the darkness, can hardly know the dreams and hallucinations, and she blinks to stave off the tunnel vision that's forming-luring her back into the cozy, warm blackness she's only just now waking from.

As the colors and shapes arrange themselves, she realizes that it's Red who sits before her, head bent low as if to pray, aged rosary beads clutched between his fingers, which are entwined with hers, the pressure there a comfortingly familiar one. He mumbles to himself, low words she can't understand, tears strolling down his crimson cheeks. She can see the light amber slivers of his irises through his dark lashes, the distracted flitting of his eyes captured as if held in a frame, and she squeezes his hand, her grip weak. His head snaps up instantly, and a flood of such obvious joy washes over his face that she can't help but offer a feeble smile, and his relieved, teary laughter as he wraps her in a careful, tender hug makes her heart pound.

Her body hurts, in some places more than others, and every inch of his skin pressed to hers brings a new wave of pain, and she winces, but smothers it from his view as he clings to her, crying into her shoulder, shaking against her. Liz brings a hand to hug his back and gasps at the sharp sting, but screws her eyes shut to rest her bruised chin in the crook of his neck, her lips beginning to tremble, her body warm from the friction of him against her.

Tears leak from her eyes, and neither needs words to say how they feel, the agony and sorrow written on both their faces as they pull away, slightly, from the safe embrace. Liz sniffles and is immediately ashamed of herself for crying, which only makes her cry harder, and his expression crumples as he leans forward, wary of his stone fist hurting her, to press a tender kiss to her forehead, bringing his thumb down to slide it down her cheek, wiping the wetness away.

She's so exhausted that she can't kiss him back, and she relies on the pillows beneath her to anchor her to the earth, pressing the side of her face to the downy surface as she turns away, closing her eyes as fresh tears burn her eyes and blur her vision, her throat shivering with suppressed sobs.

Red only clings to his rosary beads, leaning as close as he dares to, pressing his forehead to hers and squeezing her hand as she puts the other to her mouth, trying in vain to quell the loud noises that spill out of her-body racking, lachrymose moans that nearly make her double over-always clutching her stomach, futilely trying to protect something no longer there.

...

Nuala blinks away the images in her mind, and hears, as if echoed in her mind, shuffling beside her, aware of Abe both in her thoughts and near her body. His clarity rids her of the muddled confusion threatening her, and she sighs groggily, deflating against the hospital mattress to turn to him, gazing over at his scratched face as he holds her hand, blinking down at her with worry. She licks her lips and her throat feels hoarse, as if she's been screaming for hours on end, and her entire body feels utterly drained, like the energy has been snatched up and stolen, and she takes a deep breath to calm herself.

_Are you alright?_

His thoughts are hesitant, and carry a sound within them like that of a thousand dying people, the last moment of strength before the tide of weakness falls upon them all and reveals the beckoning darkness. The elf nods shakily and the motion pains her, just as every breath pains her, a great weighted feeling upon her chest.

_I'm as alright as you are_, she thinks slowly, and the languid flares of discomfort and agony slithering through her body remind her briefly of when she acquired so many unfamiliar scars, slashed across her flesh like lines drawn on paper. Abe's dam bursts, and he collapses on the bed beside her, resting his head against the back of her hand as his shoulders begin to shake, and he allows her to feel fully the extent of his pain, and his struggle to stay conscious long enough to get to her, to be there for her.

She weakly moves a finger to run it over the top of his forehead and he reaches out to grasp her hand, lifting his head to press his lips to her scratched, angry, red-skinned palms, blowing cool air on the sensitive, scraped-over flesh. She notices tears on his cheeks and swallows thickly, breathing in fresh air even though it hurts, bringing her hand up to cup his cheek.

"I'm sorry," he croaks out, and his dark eyes blink slowly, as if trying to catch up to his body's demands, and she sighs sadly. She fears that she can't use her voice, and so she sends him a thought, terrified of what's happened.

_How bad is everyone hurt? Is Liz..?_

He swallows and shakes his head, just barely, and she notices, as if for the first time, stark white bandages over his chest and shoulder, just where the bandages are on her own body, the sheets tugged down to reveal her upper torso swathed in gauze. She touches it with hesitant, shaking fingertips, and glances up at him imploringly.

_Liz lost the baby, but her damage isn't all that bad. __The air bag saved her. She fractured her arm, but it was very minor, and she may have a concussion. A lot of bruises and cuts, and she'll be sore for weeks, but John said she'd be fine. _

Images of the accident come to the forefront of her mind and she replays the moment of impact, how Liz had been so oblivious, so caught up in the instant. She remembers the screech of metal and the flip and the toss, the searing pain lancing through her shoulder as a great pressure took the breath from her, Liz's eerie scream haunting her ears, even in the pregnant silence that followed. The thought that Liz lost her baby makes her nearly cry, and she sniffles to block it out, shaking her head sadly.

_That's awful._

Abe nods, sighing, and she feels his grief, just as strong as her own, flowing through their connection, and he quickly calls it back, careful of giving her more sad thoughts. She blinks at him, managing a small smile, though it's forced and fake across her face.

_What happened to us?_ He draws circles on her arm, somehow unscathed, glancing down at the pale, unmarred flesh on the underside of the limb, shaking his head.

"Your shoulder was sliced to pieces from all of the glass, and a little bit of the metal got wrenched up into your skin, and that didn't help the wound. There was so much blood, and every second I felt something slice into me. I thought-"

He cuts off, trying to breathe slowly, despite his wincing at the action, and glances at her, tears running down his face.

"I thought you were going to die, Nuala. I was so worried," he chokes out hoarsely, and she wraps a hand around his fingers, wide eyed.

"Worried? _Why?_ Weren't you scared? You could have gotten killed because of our connection," Nuala mutters, with difficulty, and lapses into a coughing fit, which turns into a sharp yelp of pain as she instantly leans back against the bed, starting to cry at the pain, while Abe grimaces and grunts, clutching his chest.

_What's wrong with us?_ She opts for thoughts instead of verbal words and looks at him expectantly, trying to ignore the pain. He relaxes, shoulders still a bit tense, to look over at her.

_The pressure of the air bag broke one of your ribs, and the bone was shoved into one of your lungs. I could barely breathe, and I thought I was going to collapse at any moment. John had to perform surgery to fix the puncture, but he managed to remove the excess air, and said we'd make a quick recovery. But that kind of surgery usually takes quite a while to get over._

He tilted his head, and she thought she saw a smirk forming on his face.

_Be glad you're connected to me, of all people. I'm quite the fast healer, that's why I was able to stay awake for so long, and why I'm sitting in this chair. The connection will help you heal faster than you usually would-you should be feeling better in a few hours, at least. It'll probably take three to four weeks, by my estimates, to fully heal. _

Nuala blinks, sighing, and swallows, her throat already dry. Abe snaps his fingers and gets up to go over to a nearby table, coming back with a cup of something Nuala's never seen before, some odd, red substance. He offers it to her, a spoon sticking out of it.

_Jell-O? _

She smiles up at her husband and pretends like she doesn't notice his winces of pain, reflected in her own face as his movements reverberate through her, just as if she were doing them herself, doubled pain invading her thoughts and senses. She slowly takes the cup from his hand and nods to him, spooning the food carefully into her mouth, test-tasting it.

Abe's shoulders tremble with light, carefree laughter, and he does it in such a way that it, for once, doesn't hurt their chests, leaning forward to plant a kiss to her cherry stained lips, his mouth lingering against hers just as she moves into the newfound heat of his body.

He pulls away, wincing at the sudden action, and smiles over at her, despite their situation, purely and simply happy to have her whole and alive here with him, the taste of Jell-O lasting on his tongue.

_I love you, _says his soft thoughts, and she swallows the gelatin, her golden eyes blurred and red with tears.

_And I love you, my Abraham_.

**Please R&R! Feedback of any kind is always appreciated! ;) **


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